- 
. 


V      >\ 


MAN   PROPOSES. 


A    NOVEL 


BOSTON: 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK: 
CHARLES    T.   DILLINGHAM. 

1880. 


COPYRIGHT,  1880, 
BY   LEE   AND   SHEI'AKD. 

All  right*  reserved. 


MAN    PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER     I. 

THE  warehouse  of  Prescott  &  Co.  occupied  the 
upper  stories  and  lofts  of  a  large  granite  build- 
ing in  Devonshire  Street.  The  vast  floors  were 
supported  by  iron  columns,  and  were  covered 
with  cases  of  goods  laid  out  in  orderly  streets  and 
lanes.  A  portion  of  the  first  story  near  the  broad 
front-windows  was  sequestered  by  a  mahogany 
railing,  and  was  filled  with  desks,  at  which  a  dozen 
or  more  clerks  were  at  work  upon  ledgers,  bills, 
and  invoices.  There  were  tall  men  with  eye- 
glasses and  gray  martial  whiskers,  precise  in  man- 
ner, and  oppressed  with  responsibility  ;  there  were 
roly-poly  boys  that  would  be  frisky  if  they  dared ; 
there  were  slender  youths  with  yellow  mustaches 
and  lofty  aspirations ;  and  there  were  old  fellows, 
stout  and  rubicund,  who  had  long  ago  given  up 
the  hope  of  rising,  and  settled  down  to  drudgery. 
Pens  scratched  away  lightly  and  incessantly ;  great 
folios  were  turned  over ;  letters  were  indorsed 
and  filed.  Without,  a  huge  windlass  raised  and 


MAN  PROPOSES. 


lowered  cases ;  and  the  trucks  in  the  street  below 
were  coming  and  going  all  day. 

Prescott  &  Co.  were  selling-agents  for  a  number 
of  manufacturing  companies,  and  carried  on  an 
immense  business.  The  senior,  Hugh  Prescott, 
had  a  private  room  in  one  corner  of  the  first 
floor ;  and  the  junior,  Adolphus  Gibbs,  had  a  simi- 
lar room  opposite.  In  earlier  days  they  had 
worked  together :  it  was  not  so  now.  Mr.  Gibbs 
had  of  late  taken  charge  of  the  correspondence, 
and  employed  as  private  secretary  Robert  Pres- 
cott, a  nephew  of  the  head  of  the  house. 

As  Robert  is  a  person  of  mark,  he  should  stand 
for  his  portrait.  Behold  him.  He  is  tall,  sinewy, 
and  robust.  His  chestnut  hair,  abundant  and 
wavy,  falls  in  loose  masses  around  a  face  of  a 
strong  and  manly  character.  The  lines  indicate 
courage,  probity,  reserve,  and,  above  all,  a  fine 
intellect.  These  impressions  are  heightened  by 
his  singularly  expressive  eyes,  which  are  steel-blue 
in  color  in  repose,  but  are  lighted  up  to  blazing 
points  in  moments  of  excitement,  or  softened  at 
times  by  a  not  unmanly  tenderness.  It  is  the  por- 
trait of  a  person  who  should  be  considerably  above 
the  position  of  private  secretary  in  a  warehouse. 
At  the  bar,  in  the  pulpit,  or  in  a  professor's  chair, 
such  a  face  and  figure  would  have  been  in  keeping 
with  the  place. 

Mr.  Gibbs  was  short,  and  inclined  to  corpu- 
lence ;  and,  as  he  moved  about,  it  was  with  an  at- 
tempt to  hold  his  solid  and  not  very  shapely  head 


MAN  PROPOSES. 


erect,  or  inclined  slightly  backward,  as  if  he  had 
been  considering  the  scriptural  question  as  to 
whether  he  could,  by  taking  thought,  "  add  a  cubit 
to  his  stature,"  and  had  decided  that  he  could. 
He  might  not  have  been  ill  looking  twenty  years 
before ;  but  club  dinners,  and  "  business "  as  he 
understood  it,  had  been  distorting  his  features, 
and  had  given  his  eyes  an  unlovely  gleam.  His 
stubbly  beard,  which  he  persisted  in  wearing 
closely  clipped,  as  if  to  show  the  fulness  of  his 
cheeks,  added  to  the  prevailing  repulsive  impres- 
sion. 

He  came  by  the  desk  where  his  secretary  sat, 
threw  him  a  careless  nod,  and  ejaculated  a  grunt 
intended  as  a  substitute  for  a  good-morning. 
Robert  calmly  and  silently  bowed,  and  meanwhile 
his  long  nervous  hands  were  stoutly  wrestling, 
one  with  the  other,  on  his  desk.  Mr.  Gibbs  had 
apparently  forgotten  something ;  for  in  a  moment 
he  came  out,  and  shut  the  door  of  his  private 
room  behind  him.  He  walked  between  the  desks, 
casting  here  and  there  a  look  that  was  like  the 
ray  from  a  burning-glass,  or  dropping  a  word 
that  bit  like  a  mineral  acid.  As  soon  as  he  was 
gone  from  the  warehouse,  there  was  a  sigh  of 
relief,  so  general,  and  exhaled  in  such  perfect 
time,  that  one  would  think  it  had  been  rehearsed. 
Robert  smiled,  but  mostly  at  the  comic  face  of 
the  nearest  plerk,  Gates  Percival  Amory,  famil- 
iarly called  Percy,  or  sometimes  —  apropos  of 
Gates  —  nicknamed  Bars.  This  young  fellow  had 


8  MAN  PROPOSES. 

full  blue  eyes  that  always  seemed  to  be  swimming 
when  they  were  not  winking;  a  segment  of  the 
arch  of  his  round  forehead  was  bordered  by  a 
ridge  of  backward-growing  hair,  such  as  rustics 
call  a  "  cowlick ; "  his  lips  were  pulpy  and  red, 
like  over-ripe  strawberries,  and  his  cheeks  heavily 
rotund.  But  there  Nature  had  hesitated,  and  be- 
came a  niggard  in  bounty ;  for  his  neck  and  chest 
were  slender,  and  his  figure  dwindled  from  the 
shoulders  downward,  like  a  grotesque  reflection 
from  a  convex  mirror.  He  was  not  an  Antinous, 
to  be  sure  (somewhat  grotesque,  in  fact),  but  had 
a  look  of  intelligence  and  spirit. 

"  Aren't  you  on  speaking  terms  with  your  chum 
Gibbs?"  inquired  Amory  of  Robert. 

*'  As  much  as  ever." 

"  That  is,  not  at  all,  is  it?" 

"Something  like  that.  If  I  expected  to  stay 
here,  I  should  say  no  more.  But  I  think  you  are 
discreet,  and  I  will  "  — 

"  Unfold  the  secrets  of  your  prison-house.  Go 
on." 

Robert,  not  heeding  the  interruption,  continued 
gravely:  "Kings  fed  their  pride  by  having  cap- 
tive kings  as  menials;  Roman  consuls  decorated 
their  triumphs  by  leading  conquered  princes  in 
chains :  Gibbs,  who  is  more  moderate,  is  satisfied 
with  the  practised  pen  and  the  enforced  silence  of 
a  college  graduate." 

"  That  sounds  like  a  part  in  a  play.  You  have 
been  rehearsing  this.  It  shows  that  you  are 
galled," 


MAN  PROPOSES.  9 

Robert  smiled  in  spite  of  himself ;  for  he  had 
been  making  mental  comparisons,  and  the  formal 
sentences,  though  newly  formed,  were  not  sponta- 
neous. A  rigid  thinker,  his  utterances  were  apt 
to  be  bookish.  He  went  on  :  — 

"  I  am  not  only  his  secretary,  I  am  his  pen  and 
penwiper,  his  chair,  his  footstool,  his  door-mat. 
I  am  to  do  only  as  I  am  bid." 

" '  Yours  not  to  make  reply, 
Yours  not  to  reason  why, 
Yours  but  to  do  and  die,'  " 

broke  in  the  irrepressible  Amory. 

"  When  he  comes,  I  am  not  to  speak  to  him,  not 
even  to  say,  '  Good-morning.'  I  am  forbidden  ever 
to  address  him  on  any  subject,  unless  in  direct 
reply  to  his  question.  When  I  have  answered,  I 
am  dumb.  I  must  ask  no  question  in  return,  nor 
any  explanation." 

"  This  is  monstrous  !  Why,  the  Sultan  is  more 
decent  than  that !  You  are  a  slave.  We  will 
have  you  included  in  Lincoln's  proclamation,  and 
emancipated.  Emerson  shall  write  a  hymn  for 

you.  Why,  his  chuckle-head !  —  Gibbs's  I 

mean.  I  beg  your  pardon,  —  I  know  you  have 
studied  divinity  ;  but  really  one  must  swear." 

"  But  this  is  not  all,"  continued  Robert.  "  He 
hedges  himself  with  observances.  There  is  a  rule 
for  every  action.  I  haven't  the  liberty  to  move, 
to  look  at  a  newspaper,  to  touch  a  letter-file.  In 
his  presence  I  am  not  to  sit,  unless  requested.  I 


10  MAN  PROPOSES. 

stand  at  the  window  and  wait  while  the  great 
man,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  meditates,  or  gives 
his  orders.  I  come  when  he  calls  ;  I  stand  silent 
until  he  speaks.  Having  heard  what  he  has  to 
say,  I  go.  At  my  own  desk,  even,  I  am  not  to 
remain  seated  when  he  speaks  to  me.  I  rise 
to  hear  him." 

"  Any  thing  more  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  my  orders,  that,  if  any  one  in- 
quires for  Mr.  Gibbs,  I  am  to  make  one  of  these 
three  answers :  '  Mr.  Gibbs,  is  within,'  '  Mr.  Gibbs 
is  out,'  or  'Mr.  Gibbs  is  engaged.'  No  matter 
what  other  questions  are  asked  me,  I  surrender 
my  rank  as  a  free  moral  agent,  and  repeat,  like  a 
parrot,  the  same  sentence  as  before,  as  the  case 
may  be,  — '  Mr.  Gibbs  is  within,'  '  Mr.  Gibbs  is 
out,'  or  '  Mr.  Gibbs  is  engaged.' " 

"That's  true.  I  heard  you  answer  a  man  so 
the  other  day,  and  I  remember  thinking  you  were 
either  uncivil  or  stupid.  Well,  upon  my  word !  " 

"  You  will  think  this  a  severe  ordeal  for  a  proud 
man ;  but  I  have  not  been  so  much  humiliated, 
even  by  these  petty  tyrannies  as  by  my  share  in 
the  moral  transactions." 

"  Moral  transactions  ?  What  have  morals  to  do 
with  selling  goods  ?  " 

"True  enough.  That  is  an  axiom.  I  should 
explain.  Mr.  Gibbs,  I  hardly  need  say,  is  far  too 
shrewd  to  allow  any  lies  to  be  written,  —  out-and- 
out  lies.  But  he  would  tear  a  secretary  to  pieces 
if  he  wrote  the  exact  truth,  —  unless  the  exact 


MAN  PROPOSES.  11 

truth  were  so  improbable  at  the  time  as  not  to 
be  believed.  So  the  letters  are  skilfully  studied. 
There  is  an  evasion  here,  a  slight  false  suggestion 
there,  a  reticence  on  some  vital  point  beyond. 
There  is  a  lie  in  the  letter  always,  but  so  skilfully 
put!" 

"Ah!  I  see.  In  tuning  a  piano  the  difficulty 
is  to  dispose  of  the  '  wolf,'  the  sum  total  of  dis- 
cord between  the  upper  and  lower  octaves.  So 
the  tuner  distributes  it  from  the  top  to  bottom  of 
the  scale,  making  every  chord  slightly  imperfect, 
but  in  the  end  getting  rid  of  the  '.wolf.'  And  you 
have  to  temper  all  your  octaves,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Something  quite  like  it." 

"If  lying  and  meanness  were  catching,  like 
small-pox  —  gracious,  what  a  pickle  you  would  be 


in 


"  Catching  or  not,  I  am  determined  to  leave.  I 
shall  go  to  Eaglemont,  and  help  father  get  in  his 
hay,  and  in  the  fall  go  back  to  Andover  for  my 
degree,  or  go  abroad.  You  know  I  expect  to 
become  a  missionary." 

"  Yes,"  said  Amory  with  a  sigh,  lamenting  in 
his  heart  the  sacrifice,  as  it  appeared  to  him. 
Then,  after  a  pause,  "  You  speak  of  helping  your 
father ;  but  $id  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  you 
might  do  a  good  turn  by  helping  your  uncle  ?  " 

Robert  looked  fixedly  at  the  clear  blue  eyes  of 
his  friend,  as  they  alternately  swam  and  winked  ; 
and,  without  a  word  being  spoken,  a  ray  of  intelli- 
gence was  sent  and  returned. 


12  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Robert  reflected.  Then  Araory,  too,  suspected 
the  designs  of  Gibbs !  He  thought  of  his  good 
and  generous  uncle,  —  a  man  so  esteemed,  that  to 
be  "  as  honest  as  Hugh  Prescott "  was  a  proverb 
on  'change.  lie  wondered  if  Gibbs  did  mean  to 
ruin  his  old  partner  —  if  he  had  the  power. 
Then  he  remembered  the  troubled  looks  of  his 
uncle.  He  had  seen  that  Gibbs  more  and  more 
took  the  direction  of  affairs,  and  quietly  ignored 
the  senior.  He  remembered  the  costly  style  of 
living  in  his  uncle's  house,  the  superb  receptions, 
the  profuse  hospitality.  He  thought  of  the  pride 
of  Mrs.  Prescott,  —  of  her  carriage,  dress,  church, 
and  concerts  ;  and  he  thought  with  indignation 
(as  he  had  often  done  before)  of  the  habits  of  her 
son  Roderick,  who  was  pleased  with  the  distinc- 
tion of  being  the  most  extravagant  member  of  the 
Arlington  Club. 

Yes,  these  expenses  for  his  wife  ,and  step-son  had 
perhaps  exceeded  his  uncle's  income,  large  as  it 
had  been. 

But  what  could  he,  Robert  Prescott,  a  poor  the- 
ological student,  do  for  this  uncle  in  his  emer- 
gency ?  He  had  been  willing  to  work  for  a  year 
to  recruit  his  finances ;  but  to  continue  —  under 
Gibbs  —  in  abject  slavery,  bound  to  a  business 
that  he  had  no  taste  for,  to  give  up  his  manhood, 
his  intellect,  his  moral  nature,  his  mission  as  a 
preacher  ?  It  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

Besides,  his  uncle  had  not  taken  him  into  his 
confidence,  and  evidently  did  not  think  him 


MAN  PROPOSES.  13 

enough  of  a  man  of  business  to  be  consulted. 
Yes,  it  was  best  that  he  should  return  to  his  pro- 
fession. What  should  detain  him?.  He  felt  at 
liberty  to  resign  his  position,  and  to  leave  on  short 
notice. 

But,  after  all,  he  did  not  exert  his  will ;  or,  if 
he  did,  the  universe  was  a  solid  wall  around  Bos- 
ton, and  he  could  not  get  out.  The  divinity  stu- 
dent was  in  love.  He  did  not  know  it ;  only  at 
the  thought  of  going  away  there  was  something 
tugging  at  his  heart,  —  some  glistening  lines,  as 
fine  as  spider's  threads,  floating  in  air,  yet  potent 
as  the  invisible  forces  of  nature ;  and  it  required 
no  long  observation  to  perceive  that  the  figure 
towards  which  the  traction  tended  was  a  young 
lady  just  out  of  her  teens,  whose  rich  color  of  tea- 
rose,  and  soft  dark  hair  and  eyes,  were  like  a 
dream  of  an  Italian  painter.  The  longer  he  medi- 
tated, the  more  tangible  grew  the  lines  that 
stretched  out  to  him,  and  led  back  to  the  image. 
"Edwards  on  the  Will"  failed  to  elucidate  the 
mystery. 

But  the  situation  was  a  delicate  one.  He  did 
not  know  the  girl's  parentage,  nor  any  name  for 
her  but  Phcebe ;  for  so  she  was  called  in  his 
uncle's  house,  where  she  lived  on  terms  of  inti- 
macy, if  not  of  equality,  and  where  she  had  lived 
from  early  childhood.  It  was  Phcebe  simply 
whom  he  loved.  She  might  be  Phcebe  Maloney, 
or  Courtney,  or  de  Guiscard,  or  Delia  Torre. 
His  uncle,  Hugh  Prescott,  had  not  legally  adopted 


14  MAN  PROPOSES. 

her  ;  yet  he  and  his  wife  treated  her  as  a  daughter, 
and  gave  their  hearts  to  her  as  few  parents  do. 
She  was  barely  twenty,  wholly  unspoiled  by  the 
world,  sweet  and  equable  in  temper,  simple  in 
manner  and  speech.  So  he  had  found  her  during 
the  year  he  had  been  teaching  her  Latin.  These 
traits  occurred  to  him  now  in  flashes  of  memory ; 
and  above  all  he  remembered  an  unwonted  matu- 
rity of  character,  in  which  the  charming  dignity  of 
the  woman  was  blended  with  the  joyous  nature 
of  the  child. 

She  was  inaccessible  as  a  star.  Could  he  go  to 
the  uncle,  without  any  settled  purpose  in  life,  and 
ask  him  for  the  darling  of  his  heart?  Could  he 
ask  Mrs.  Prescott,  who  was  a  devotee  of  propriety, 
—  Boston's  chief  god,  —  for  a  young  girl  with 
braids  of  hair  down  her  back,  still  studying 
music  and  languages,  and  he  without  an  establish- 
ment, or  the  means  to  set  up  one  ?  Dare  he  make 
his  suit  to  Phcebe  even?  Would  this  fresli  and 
lovely  girl  be  content  to  share  his  lot  as  a  poof 
preacher,  or  perhaps  as  a  missionary  to  the  hea- 
then? 

The  desire  alone  Avas  on  one  side,  and  a  dozen 
solid  objections  on  the  other. 

And  then  Roderick,  the  gay  impertinent  —  what 
if  his  mother  had  plans  for  him?  What  if  she 
had  reared  this  charming  young  woman  for  her 
future  daughter-in-law  ? 

Between  all  these  difficulties  and  dangers  the 
young  man  was  sufficiently  perplexed. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  15 

The  whole  circle  of  doubts  had,  however,  been 
traversed  in  an  incredibly  short  time ;  for,  as  he 
came  down  from  the  upper  sphere,  he  saw  Amory 
standing  on  the  same  foot,  leaning  on  his  tall  desk, 
and  contemplating  a  certain  writing  which  was 
arranged  in  sections  of  four  parallel  lines,  quite 
unlike  any  mercantile  formula. 

Amory's  large  blue  eyes  turned  towards  Robert 
with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  It  doesn't  come.  Three  lines  are  passable ; 
the  fourth  is  bad,  incorrigible." 

Whereupon  lie  whipped  the  sheet  of  paper  into 
a  drawer.  Robert  was  only  partially  recovered, 
and  he  wearily  observed,  "  Mr.  Gibbs  is  late  in 
coming." 

Amory,  however,  was  sailing  on  his  own  tack, 
blown  by  a.  wind  which  Robert  had  not  felt,  and 
said  bluntly,  "If  you  go  up  to  Eaglemont  hay- 
ing, I  have  a  mind  to  go  with  you." 

"  You  go  haying !  You'd  wilt  sooner  than  the 
grass,  and  be  glad  to  crawl  under  a  windrow  to 
get  out  of  the  sun." 

"  Doesn't  your  father  have  help  in  haying  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  sometimes.  I  have  always  helped 
him  so  far ;  and  sometimes  Mary  rakes  after  the 
cart." 

"  Does  she,  indeed  ?  Ah,  what  a  pretty  idyl ! 
And  haymaking  is  something  so  fragrant,  —  grass 
all  dewy,  and  mixed  with  sweet  red  and  white 
clover.  And  then  Mary  rakes  after  the  cart  ?  In 
a  sun-bonnet,  of  course;  and  the  sun-bonnets,  are 


16  MAN  PROPOSES. 

so  jolly,  —  like  sugar-scoops.  Mary  must  look 
charming  in  a  sun-bonnet.  The  scoop  would  look 
as  if  it  had  been  successful." 

Robert  meantime  was  far  away.  The  long  and 
shining  lines  were  drawing  at  his  heart  again,  and 
he  was  thinking  of  the  peachy  bloom  that  glowed 
and  wavered  upon  cheeks  of  tea-rose. 

"  I  suppose  I  should  have  to  go  to  church  if  I 
went  to  Eaglemont.  It  isn't  respectable  in  the 
country  not  to  go  to  church.  Uncle  Solomon  and 
aunt  Zeruiah  always  go,  don't  they  ?  " 

"My  father  and  mother  never  stay  away  from 
public  worship,"  said  Robert,  recalled  from  his 
vision.  "  In  haying-time,  though  we  are  tired, 
and  would  like  absolute  rest,  we  go  for  the  sake 
of  example.  Father  sometimes  nods  on  a  hot  day 
before  the  preacher  gets  to  '  thirteenthly.'  " 

"  I  like  your  father,  Mr.  Prescott,"  said  Amory 
respectfully,  "  and  I  must  beg  pardon  for  calling 
him  uncle  Solomon." 

"  Everybody  calls  him  so,  though  he  isn't  old." 

"And  your  mother,  too,  seems  wonderfully 
good  and  just;  though  I  wish  she"  — 

"  I  know  what  you  would  say :  she  has  an  Old 
Testament  way  with  her.  But  the  poetry  and  old- 
world  stateliness  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  seem 
to  have  taken  possession  of  her." 

"And  Mary  —  well,  the  young  ladies  in  these 
hill-towns  have  sweet  and  charming  manners  — 
in  a  sun-bonnet,  raking  after  a  cart"  — 

The  conversation  came  to  a  sudden  close.     As 


MAN  PROPOSES.  17 

a  covey  of  partridges  is  hushed  when  the  hawk 
sails  overhead  on  widespread  wings,  so  the  small- 
talk  ceased  when  the  short,  heavy  step  of  Mr. 
Gibbs  was  heard.  All  were  as  diligent  as  if  to 
enter  figures  in  blank  books  had  been  the  special 
end  of  their  creation. 

The  junior  paused  at  Robert's  desk,  and  asked 
if  Mr.  Prescott  had  come.  Being  answered  in 
the  negative,  he  said  in  an  irritating  voice,  — 

"  Late.  Better  attend  to  business.  Need  for 
him." 

Robert  and  Amory  exchanged  glances,  and 
went  on  with  their  work. 


18  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER   II. 

IT  was  true,  as  Mr.  Gibbs  tersely  remarked,  that 
Mr.  Prescott  was  late  in  getting  to  business.  His 
breakfast  was  over ;  and  he  sat  in  a  small  room  ad- 
joining the  open  conservatory  windows,  smoking  a 
cheroot  while  he  looked  over  "  The  Advertiser." 
The  house  stood  on  Mount  Vernon  Street,  fair  to 
the  sun  ;  and  the  windows  would  have  been  flooded 
with  genial  light,  had  not  the  rich  but  sombre 
Egyptian  draperies  interposed  to  make  a  fashiona- 
ble gloom. 

It  was  June,  and  nearly  everybody  had  gone 
to  Nahant,  or  Newport,  or  Mount  Desert,  —  every- 
body whom  Mrs.  Prescott  cared  to  know,  —  but 
up  to  this  time  Mr.  Prescott  had  been  unwilling  to 
leave.  Madam  was  seated  near  by,  busy  with  a 
pile  of  soft  Berlin  wool,  that  looked  as  if  it  were 
the  end  of  a  rainbow  that  had  been  tangled  in 
spooling.  The  air  came  in  from  the  conservatory, 
cool,  dewy,  and  fragrant;  and  the  light  on  the 
lady's  face  was  flecked  with  soft  green  shades. 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  what  people  call  a  fine 
woman,  with  clear  complexion,  large  humid  eyes, 
and  a  well-rounded  figure,  so  becoming  to  a  dame 
of  forty-five.  Something  in  her  manners  and 


MAN  PROPOSES. 


habitual  expression  testified  to  her  English  origin  ; 
and  in  truth  few  women  of  American  birth  at  her 
age  retain  such  fresh  features  and  elasticity  of 
movement.  Her  luxuriant,  ruddy-brown  hair  was 
lightly  streaked  with  gray ;  and,  while  a  part  of 
its  abundance  drooped  on  both  sides  of  her  face, 
the  remaining  strands  were  gathered  and  coiled 
above  her  head,  and,  with  laces  and  a  soft  pink 
ribbon,  formed  a  striking  and  becoming  coiffure. 
Her  husband  was  a  man  of  near  sixty  years,  of 
medium  height,  plainly  dressed,  but  exquisitely 
neat,  and  remarkable  only  for  the  singular  depth 
and  brilliancy  of  his  eyes.  His  features  were  sub- 
dued in  expression,  —  a  habit  formed  by  steady 
thought  and  by  the  exercise  of  caution  in  busi- 
ness ;  but  his  eyes,  and  the  lines  about  his  mouth, 
showed  at  once  the  quickness  of  his  intellect  and 
the  impulsive  generosity  of  his  nature. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Prescott,  it  is  time  for  us  to  leave 
town.  The  summer  is  coming  in  earnest,  and  we 
can't  stay  longer." 

"  June,  my  dear,  is  the  finest  month  in  the  year 
in  Boston.  Just  think  what  a  glorious  resort  the 
Common  would  be  at  this  season  if  it  were  only 
in  Newport."  Here  the  cheroot  was  raised  to  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  bearing  east  by  south 
towards  the  lady. 

"  But  it  isn't  in  Newport ;  and  it  might  as  well 
be  built  over,  for  all  the  good  it  does  us.  We 
can't  walk  there." 

"  And  why  not,  my  dear  ?  " 


20  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Why,  you  know  the  malls  are  always  filled 
with  country  cousins,  and  strollers  that  have 
nothing  to  do,  and  people  that  go  holding  each 
other's  hands;  and  the  seats  are  occupied  with 
queer,  staring  couples."  There  was  a  shrug  or 
shiver  of  disgust. 

"Part  of  the  entertainment,  my  dear.  These 
strange  folks  make  the  walks  a  study.  And  they 
can't  spoil  all  the  fresh  air,  nor  use  all  the  green 
shade,  nor  monopolize  the  blue  sky." 

"  No ;  but  refined  people  like  privacy.  These 
low  cads  and  shop-girls  would  make  the  finest 
park  vulgar.  No  .lady  in  society  is  ever  seen  on 
the  Common,  except  in  crossing  to  St.  Paul's  on 
Sunday  morning." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  them." 

"  But  truly,  Mr.  Prescott,  can't  we  go  to  New- 
port, —  or  perhaps  to  Narragansett  ?  " 

"  You  can  go,  my  dear." 

"  Of  course  I  shall  not  go  without  you.  Is  it 
business,  or  what  is  it,  that  makes  you  want  to 
stay  after  everybody  has  gone  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  a  doubt  that  a  census  would  show 
as  many  people  in  Boston  now  as  in  winter,  per- 
haps more." 

"  You  know  I  don't  mean  that.  Our  set  makes 
the  world  for  us,  —  our  church,  our  club." 

"If  the  population  were  less  by  one,  and  I 
could  name  that  one,  I  might  go." 

"  Is  it  a  riddle  ?     '  Less  by  one  ! '     What  one  ?  " 

"  Gibbs." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  21 

There  was  a  volume  of  meaning  in  his  look  as 
he  uttered  the  word.  Mrs.  Prescott  looked  at 
him  with  a  puzzled  expression,  —  an  expression 
that  soon  deepened  into  pain  as  she  saw  in  the 
depths  of  his  clear  eyes  the  strength  of  his  feeling. 

They  were  silent  for  a  moment ;  but  swift  cur- 
rents of  sympathy,  coursed  to  and  fro.  After  a 
while  he  went  on,  as  if  talking  to  himself,  — 

"  Gibbs  is  a  devil-fish  skulking  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sea.  His  eye  takes  in  the  opportunities,  and 
he  has  tentacles  ready  for  unwary  fish." 

"  You  frighten  me.  How  can  a  junior  partner 
harm  the  head  of  the  house  ? " 

"  It  remains  to  be  seen  which  of  us  is  the  head. 
If  he  gets  the  upper  hand,  I  don't  look  for  any 
sentiment  on  his  part,  nor  any  forbearance.  The 
interest  of  Gibbs  is  all  that  interests  him." 

"  So  we  must  lose  the  summer  for  the  sake  of 
Mr.  Gibbs?" 

"  /  must.     I  don't  intend  to  be  absent  a  day." 

Mrs.  Prescott  sat  fuming  in  her  feminine  way, 
much  like  a  large  spoiled  child ;  and  her  husband 
went  on  smoking. 

In  an  alcove  connected  with  the  drawing-room, 
on  the  opposite  side,  —  an  alcove  of  some  size, 
lighted  from  above,  and  specially  constructed  for 
the  grand  piano,  —  Phoebe  was  running  over  a 
new  song,  humming  the  air  at  times,  and  then  dis- 
entangling knotty  places  in  the  accompaniment. 
Tints  of  rose  in  the  draperies  of  the  alcove  cast 
a  warm  reflection  upon  her  face ;  and  her  luxuri- 


22  MAN  PROPOSES. 

ant  hair  showed  fine  points  of  light,  relieved  by 
deep  masses  of  shade.  Her  fine  soft  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  music,  her  lips  curved  apart  in  her 
eagerness ;  and  the  exercise  of  her  faculties,  and 
her  delight  in  the  composition,  were  seen  in  a 
heightened  but  still  refined  glow,  and  in  a  rapt 
expression  which  painters  strive  to  imitate,  but 
which  is  never  seen  in  life  except  as  the  sign  and 
seal  of  genius.  So  she  sang  and  played,  by  turns, 
with  all  her  soul. 

Mr.  Prescott,  as  he  sat,  could  see  the  illumi- 
nated profile  of  his  darling,  although  most  of  the 
alcove  was  in  a  rosy  shadow.  The  music  was 
interrupted  now  and  then,  and  Phoebe's  face 
would  wear  a  look  of  impatience.  By  and  by  it 
appeared  that  the  leaves  of  the  song  were  turned 
by  another.  Was  it  a  fancy,  or  did  she  once  or 
twice  raise  her  shoulder,  with  an  urgent  feminine 
shrug,  as  if  to  be  rid  of  some  annoyance  ?  The 
leaves  were  turned  again,  as  if  lay  some  meddle- 
some hand  interfering  with  her  practice.  Then 
once  or  twice  she  turned  her  head  as  if  to  hear 
something,  and  meanwhile  her  face  showed  suc- 
cessive waves  of  color.  More  interruptions  fol- 
lowed ;  and  soon  all  the  variations  in  the  scale  of 
expression  were  seen,  as  if  curiosity,  vexation, 
dignity,  shrinking,  and  then  terror  and  anger, 
animated  her  in  turn. 

Mrs.  Prescott  had  put  down  her  work,  and  was 
looking  at  the  plants  in  the  conservatory  windows. 
Mr.  Prescott  still  affected  to  smoke ;  but  the  che- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  23 

root  soon  lost  fire,  and  he  chewed  the  end  of  it 
with  silent  fury,  until  it  became  a  shapeless  wad 
of  tobacco. 

The  piano  had  ceased,  and  the  voice  of  song 
also ;  but  Mr.  Prescott  saw,  rather  than  heard, 
Phoebe  talking  in  a  low  voice,  but  with  an  electric 
energy  of  manner;  and  meanwhile  her  eyes  lost 
their  sweet  look,  and  her  cheeks  grew  velvety  red. 
She  was  no  longer  a  girlish  St.  Cecilia,  but  was  on 
the  eve  of  some  angry  outburst. 

Mr.  Prescott,  whose  senses  were  sharp,  and 
whose  deductions  were  quick,  was  at  first  inclined 
to  blaze  out  with  an  oath.  But  he  thought  of  his 
wife,  and  he  hated  a  scene,  and  therefore  restrained 
himself.  He  only  rose,  and  yawned  audibly,  and 
made  some  intentional  bustle  by  overturning  an 
ottoman,  jarring  his  chair  against  the  table,  and 
then  walking  with  some  energy  across  the  draw- 
ing-room, as  if  going  to  the  alcove. 

He  did  not  enter  the  alcove :  it  was  not  neces- 
sary. Phoebe  came  out  with  a  swift  step,  and, 
half  hiding  her  reddened  and  tearful  face,  slipped 
into  the  hall,  and  ran  up  the  front-stairs.  The 
step-son  Roderick  also  came  out  from  the  recess, 
calm  and  self-possessed,  whistling  the  air  of  the 
new  song,  and,  sauntering  towards  the  conserva- 
tory, took  a  cheroot,  and  lighted  it.  Then  with  a 
pleasant  nod  to  his  step-father,  and  a  by-by  to  his 
mother,  the  young  man  crossed  over  to  the  hall, 
selected  a  fanciful  stick,  and  went  out.  The  most 
careful  observer  would  have  failed  to  detect  any 


24  MAN  PROPOSES. 

sign  of  compunction,  or  any  consciousness  of 
impropriety.  He  looked  as  composed,  and  void  of 
offence,  as  a  cat  just  from  a  cream-pot. 

Mr.  Prescott  regarded  him  silently,  but  not 
with  his  usual  calmness.  On  the  contrary,  his 
jaws  were  firmly  set ;  the  full  veins  showed  in  his 
temples ;  and  his  eyes  were  almost  phosphorescent. 
But  he  sat  down  again,  smoked  rather  furiously, 
and  seemed  struggling  with  painful  emotions. 

"  I  wonder  how  long  this  is  to  go  on,"  he  said 
at  length,  thinking  aloud. 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Prescott. 

"  Roderick  is  twenty-five,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"Yes:  twenty-five  last  October.  You  know 
his  birthday  is  the  anniversary  of  Trafalgar,  when 
his  great-grandfather,  the  admiral"  — 

"Yes,  I  remember.  But  he  isn't  an  admiral, 
nor  on  the  way  to  become  one.  And  what  he  will 
arrive  at  is  the  question." 

Mrs.  Prescott  looked  inquiringly  at  this  abrupt 
turn. 

"  As  we  have  brought  him  up  to  do  nothing," 
he  went  on,  "  I  suppose  the  best  thing  we  can  do 
now  is  to  get  him  married  off.  That  is  the  phrase, 
I  believe,  —  married  off,  —  like  the  periodical  sales 
of  surplus  live-stock." 

"  I  hope  he  will  marry  some  time ;  but  he  is 
young  yet,  and  he  should  have  his  pleasure." 

"  Oh,  never  fear !  he'll  have  that,  married  or 
single.  Do  you  think  he  has  any  notion  of  set- 
tling down  ?  " 


MAN  PROPOSES.  25 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  somewhat  embarrassed.  For 
her  part,  she  had  decided  that  her  son  should 
marry  Phoebe,  if  she  could  bring  it  about;  but 
she  did  not  like  to  put  her  thought  in  words. 

"  Since  I  have  adopted  him,  and  he  is  no  longer 
a  Courteney,  but  Roderick  Prescott,  I  am  respon- 
sible for  him  ;  and  I  confess  that  I  don't  like  to 
see  the  frivolous  period  spun  out  too  long.  He  is 
a  boy  no  longer." 

"  His  great-grandfather  the  admiral  was  a  gay 
youth  too." 

"So  I  have  heard;  but  a  sea-fight  sobered 
him." 

"And  made  him  glorious." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  You  see,  my  dear,  if  I  am  to 
have  a  bout  with  Gibbs  "  — 

"Must  I  always  hear  of  that  man?  Isn't  it 
enough  that  I  give  up  Newport  on  his  account?" 

"Not  at  all.  I  must  consider  those  I  have  to 
lug  with  me.  Roderick  doesn't  count  for  help. 
He  is  among  those  that  have  to  be  carried." 

Mrs.  Prescott  did  not  feel  at  ease.  Her  hus- 
band's remarks  were  barbed  arrows  in  her  soul. 
She  did  not  exactly  cry;  but  her  breathing  was 
short,  and  her  color  came  in  pulsing  tides.  "  While 
you  talk  of  what  you  have  'to  carry,'  you  are 
grudging  a  share  for  Phcebe  too,  I  suppose?" 

"  I  grudge  nothing  to  any,  —  neither  to  Phrebe 
nor  Roderick.  Every  one,  however,  has  to  be  con- 
sidered. And,  speaking  of  Phoebe,  what  is  she 
doing  now  ?  " 


26  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  She  reads  Virgil  twice  a  week  with  your 
nephew  Robert,  and  she  has  lessons  in  music  and 
Italian  from  Signer  Belvedere :  that  is  all." 

"  Hm  !  Robert  is  a  fine  fellow.  Belvedere,  too, 
seems  a  gentleman." 

"  Phoebe  is  wonderfully  prudent  and  self-respect- 
ing." 

"  So  I  believe,"  —  thinking  with  renewed  wrath 
of  the  recent  scene. 

"  I  think  she  is  fond  of  Roderick,"  —  this  with 
some  caution,  in  a  tentative  way. 

"  Of  Robert,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear :  I  said  she  was  fond  of  Roder- 
ick." 

"Yes,  I've  no  doubt.  She  ought  to  be  very 
fond  of  him." 

"They  have  been  brought  up  like  children 
together." 

"  Yes ;  like  a  terrier  and  kitten,  —  paw  and 
claw." 

"  And  I  have  been  thinking"  — 

"  And  I  too." 

"  Ah  !  you  think  Robert  should  look  for  a  rich 
wife?" 

"If  I  live,  and  struggle  through  with  Gibbs, 
Phoebe  will  want  nothing.  I  shall  see  to  that," 

"  She  is  a  dear  girl." 

"  I  have  said  a  thousand  times  she  is  like  my 
own  flesh  and  blood." 

"And  Roderick  is  not"  (apprehensively). 

"  No ;  but  I  shall  look  out  for  him." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  27 

The  steady  look  meanwhile  was  like  the  sight 
of  a  rifleman.  Mrs.  Prescott  could  not  penetrate 
her  husband's  thoughts.  All  that  he  had  uttered 
was  open  and  free ;  but  still  she  felt  there  was 
something  in  his  mind  that  she  could  not  divine. 
She  shifted  the  topic  of  conversation. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  should  make  another  effort 
to  find  out  her  parentage  ?  " 

"No,  my  dear.  We  should  only  come  upon 
some  good-for-nothing  adventurer,  who  would 
want  to  sell  her,  and,  if  he  could  not  drive  a  good 
bargain,  tear  her  from  us.  But  we  have  a  right  to 
adoj)t  her,  and  in  about  a  year  she  will  be  her 
own  mistress.  So  she  reads  Virgil  with  Robert  ? 
Well,  she  might  do  worse." 

"I  suppose  Robert  will  soon  be  leaving  the 
office." 

"  Probably.     His  year  is  about  up." 

"  I  am  sorry  he  doesn't  join  the  church,  and  be 
ordained  by  a  bishop,  instead  of  throwing  himself 
away.  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  him  as  a  —  as  a  — 
sectary.  How  noble  he  would  look  in  the  robes ! 
lie  has  a  better  figure  than  father  Carl  ton.  And 
such  a  charming  spiritual  expression  !  " 

"  Better  not  let  his  mother  hear  you  !  Aunt  Zer- 
uiah,  as  the  country  people  call  her,  would  tear 
the  robes  off  his  back.  '  Mark  of  the  Beast ' 
would  be  her  mildest  phrase." 

"  I  heard  of  some  very  unkind  words  she  said 
because  we  had  the  altar  candles  lighted  in  our 
oratory  at  the  solemn  music  on  Good  Friday/' 


28  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  little  sentimental,  wasn't  it,  to 
have  a  string  quartet  playing  dolefully  by  candle- 
light, and  the  family  and  friends  sniffing  as  if  at  a 
funeral?" 

Mrs.  Prescott  looked  a  mild  reproach. 

"  By  the  by,  when  Roderick  comes  in  from  his 
walk,  ask  him  to  step  down  and  see  me  before 
dinner." 

When  alone,  Mrs.  Prescott  had  plenty  to  think 
of.  She  was  anxious  for  her  son,  whose  hold  upon 
her  husband's  regard  and  affection  she  saw  was 
loosening.  She  lived  chiefly  for  the  graceless 
youth,  and  had  shielded  him  often  from  his  step- 
father's anger.  She  loved  the  girl  Phoebe  too : 
but  it  was  interest  that  prompted  her  to  desire  her 
marriage  with  Roderick;  for  she  felt  sure  that 
Phoebe  would  some  day  have  a  good  share  of  Mr. 
Prescott's  property,  and  it  would  be  so  comforta- 
ble not  to  let  it  go  out  of  the  family. 

Various  reasons  had  combined  to  keep  the  girl 
in  seclusion.  She  had  not  been  acknowledged  as 
a  daughter.  She  was  not  a  Prescott,  nor  any  thing 
but  "  Phoebe."  She  attended  no  parties  or  balls, 
had  no  friends  among  the  young  ladies  who  lived 
in  the  neighborhood,  no  confidant  nor  intimate. 
Having  a  quick  mind,  perhaps  more  reflective 
than  observant,  she  lived  in  an  interior  world  of 
romance,  peopled  with  great  and  heroic  men  as 
well  as  beautiful  and  brilliant  women.  The  only 
persons  of  all  the  living  she  knew  (besides  her  old 
foster-mother,  Mrs.  Maloney)  were  those  of  Mr. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  29 

Prescott's  family,  his  nephew  (her  Latin  teacher), 
and  her  music-master,  Signer  Belvedere.  These 
were  but  few;  but  they  formed  Phoebe's  world. 
In  such  a  life  the  character  of  each  friend  becomes 
momentous.  In  such  a  life  an  ingenuous  girl  may 
become  frank  and  outspoken  like  Miranda,  with- 
out a  thought  of  overstepping  the  line  of  delicacy. 

Mrs.  Prescott  knew  little  of  Phosbe's  interior 
world ;  but  she  was  conscious  of  having  neglected 
a  mother's  duty  towards  her,  and  hoped  to  make 
late  amends. 

But  the  chief  subject  of  her  thoughts,  and  the 
object  of  her  fear  and  dislike,  was  her  husband's 
partner  Gibbs.  This  feeling  did  not  arise  from 
any  real  knowledge  of  the  man :  it  was  only 
because  she  saw  the  success  of  his  schemes  would 
lower  the  position  of  her  family.  And  without 
her  establishment,  her  church,  her  son,  and  the 
Plato  Club,  the  world  would  be  empty,  and  life 
not  worth  living.  Gibbs,  in  this  view,  was  the 
sum  of  all  evil.  Shs  was  in  terror ;  and  what  made 
it  agonizing  was  the  sense  of  utter  helplessness. 


30  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SIGNOR  BELVEDERE'S  apartments  were  on  the 
third  floor  of  a  fine  but  old-fashioned  house, 
whose  windows  opened  upon  a  pleasant  vista  of 
grassy  slopes  and  full  boughed  trees.  Two  rooms 
and  a  closet  sufficed  for  his  modest  wants.  In 
one  was  an  upright  piano  in  ebony  case  with  gilt 
ornaments ;  in  the  other  a  capacious  sofa,  that 
might  be  a  bed  in  disguise.  In  both  rooms  there 
were  book-shelves  in  every  nook,  and  along  the 
base-boards;  brackets  supported  antique  casts; 
pictures,  sketches,  and  prints  covered  all  available 
spaces  upon  the  walls ;  and,  instead  of  curtains, 
exquisite  flowering  plants  in  pots  of  majolica 
filled  the  windows,  not  wholly  obstructing  the 
prospect,  but  tempering  the  light  by  soft  green 
glooms,  and  filling  the  air  with  delicate  scents. 

To  a  stranger  the  rooms  were  full  of  pleasant 
surprises.  Though  seemingly  devoted  to  elegant 
ease,  if  not  to  luxury,  they  contained  sufficient  for 
the  ministry  of  common  needs.  The  porcelain 
stove  (a  German  contrivance)  had  bright  sauce- 
pans and  kettles  stored  away  in  its  pagoda-like 
top.  In  the  wall  there  were  panels  that  swung 
open  when  touched,  and  showed  glass  and  china, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  31 

silver-ware,  and  table  cutlery.  An  ottoman  in  a 
corner,  if  examined  closely,  proved  to  be  both  a 
wash-hand  stand,  and  an  ice-chest.  Behind  rows 
of  books  were  receptacles  for  eggs,  macaroni, 
canned  mushrooms,  truffles,  and  sweetmeats.  A 
bamboo  reclining  chair  was  also  a  library  table, 
with  drawers  for  stationery  and  letters.  The  lit- 
ter and  annoyance  which  usually  attend  house- 
keeping, and  which  make  life  odious  to  sensitive 
people,  were  wholly  wanting.  In  short,  the  rooms, 
though  packed  with  ingenious  contrivances,  like  a 
London  dressing-case,  seemed  to  the  casual  visitor 
to  be  steeped  in  the  air  of  delicious  idleness. 

Signor  Belvedere  was  above  fifty  years  of  age, 
tall  and  spare,  but  active  and  graceful.  He  wore 
a.  full  white  beard,  and  his  iron-gray  hair  was 
closely  cut  around  swelling  temples ;  while  above 
rose  his  bald  head  like  a  dome,  —  a  fitting  crown 
for  a  noble  figure.  He  would  have  been  a  vision 
of  antique  beauty,  but  for  the  large  bulbous  glasses 
that  shaded  his  deep-set  gray  eyes.  But  not  even 
the  glasses  could  conceal  the  fire  and  softness  of 
the  orbs,  nor  the  full,  dark  lashes  that  fringed 
them.  It  may  be  added  that  he  had  the  exube- 
rant feeling  and  taste  of  an  artist,  and  the  serene 
manners  of  a  prince.  Something  of  finesse  and 
caution  belongs  to  all  the  race  that  produced 
Macchiavelli,  and  Signor  Belvedere  was  naturally 
velvet-footed  in  movement ;  but  a  more  ardent 
soul  than  his  was  never  pent  in  clay.  He  seemed 
to  have  stepped  out  of  a  picture  of  the  middle 


32  MAN  PROPOSES. 

ages,  at  a  time  when  art,  poetry,  and  knightly 
courtesy  were  born. 

He  had  completed  his  morning  toilet,  though 
not  without  some  trouble.  The  laundress  had 
ironed  off  a  shirt-button,  and  he  was  fain  to 
secure  the  plaits  of  the  bosom,  white  as  snow,  and 
unstarched,  with  a  quaint  mosaic  brooch.  The 
bit  of  color  showed  fairly  under  the  soft  waves  of 
his  snowy  beard.  "  It  is  unusual,"  he  said  to  him- 
self as  he  looked  in  a  mirror ;  "  but  it  is  not-a 
unbecoming." 

One  black  silk  stocking  had  a  hole  in  it.  "  '  A 
solution  of  the  continuity,'  as-a  my  friend  the 
philosopher  would  say."  He  could  mend  it,  if 
there  were  time,  as  he  could  turn  his  hand  to  any 
thing ;  but  breakfast  was  to  be  accomplished.  He 
took  another  stocking :  that  had  a  hole  also ;  but 
luckily,  as  he  observed,  after  thrusting  his  thin, 
nervous  hand  into  it,  "the  apertures"  were  "not 
co-extensive  nor  co-terminous."  So  he  drew  the 
one  long,  slender,  glossy  stocking  over  the  other, 
triumphant.  "In-a  my  slippers,"  said  he  "the 
hole  will  not-a  show."  The  slippers  of  leopard- 
skin  were  perhaps  incongruous ;  for  every  other 
part  of  his  costume  was  black  and  unobtrusive. 

Opening  one  of  the  cupboards,  of  which  the 
room  seemed  as  full  as  a  stage-scene  made  ready 
for  a  Christmas  pantomime,  he  set  a  few  dishes 
upon  the  table.  His  alcohol  lamp  was  already 
burning,  and  there  was  a  supply  of  boiling  water 
ready  to  be  dashed  upon  his  fragrant  coffee, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  33 

freshly  roasted  and  pounded,  and  to  fill  the  cod- 
dler  for  his  eggs.  He  raised  a  small  slide,  fitted 
in  grooves  at  the  end  of  a  wooden  tube  that 
inclined  forward,  and  let  an  egg  roll  out.  He 
looked  at  the  date  pencilled  upon  the  shell,  and 
saw  that  it  was  recent;  then  he  let  another  roll 
into  his  hand.  By  this  means  every  egg  in  the 
inclined  tube  that  served  for  a  repository  had  been 
turned  over,  —  a  wise  precaution,  as  every  observ- 
ing housekeeper  knows. 

An  orange,  the  two  coddled  eggs,  a  roll,  and  a 
cup  of  coffee,  —  a  large  Sevres  cup,  —  furnished 
him  an  ample  breakfast.  It  was  half-past  nine, 
and  time  for  his  pupils.  He  did  not  indulge  in 
smoking  until  after  dinner.  From  the  closet  he 
brought  a  something  that  looked  like  a  small 
churn  operated  by  a  crank.  He  put  in  it  the  few 
dishes,  poured  in  hot  water,  and  in  a  moment  the 
cleansing  was  accomplished.  His  fingers  were  as 
delicate  as  a  queen's,  and  his  ingenuity  had  been 
devoted  to  saving  them  from  contact  either  with 
dirt  or  hot  water.  Viands  and  dishes  were  put 
up ;  the  secret  recesses  were  closed ;  the  room 
put  off  its  workaday  air,  and,  but  for  the  faint 
lingering  fumes  of  coffee,  was  as  odorless  as  a  gal- 
lery of  sculpture. 

There  was  a  slight  tap  at  the  door.  Signer  Bel- 
vedere rose  and  opened  it,  holding  it  open  with 
stately  politeness  for  his  visitor.  A  tall  and  beau- 
tiful girl  entered  with  a  light  step,  and  with  only 
a  faint  smile  of  greeting. 


34  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  Phaybe.  You  are  quite-a 
punctual." 

"  Yes,  professor.  I  started  early ;  and,  for  a  lon- 
ger walk,  I  came  by  the  path  under  the  lindens. 
I  have  been  enjoying  the  fresh  air,  and  I  thought 
I  might  be  late." 

"  How  oft-en  must  I  request  you,  my  dear 
youngg  lady,  not  to  call-a  me  '  professor '  ?  Ever-y 
player  of  guitar,  or  snapper  of  castanets,  or  boxer, 
or  hitter  of  shoulders,  ever-y  quack  and  boot-a- 
black  in  this  great  country,  is  '  professor.' " 

His  speech  was  rapid  and  energetic ;  but  his 
eyes  were  corruscating  in  merry  twinkles,  and 
his  white  teeth  glistened  under  the  curves  of  his 
mustaches.  On  her  part,  there  was  an  evident 
effort  in  her  politeness  and  in  her  assumed  cheer- 
fulness. 

"  Pardon  me ! "  the  said.  "  I  spoke  without 
thought :  I  know  better.  Yet  you  are  generally 
called  so." 

She  was  standing  by  the  front-window,  as  if  to 
turn  her  countenance  away  from  the  light.  The 
brilliant  greenery  in  the  window,  studded  with 
blossoms,  and  flecked  with  sunlight,  formed  an  ap- 
propriate background  for  an  enchanting  picture. 
This  the  quick  eye  of  the  artist  saw ;  but  there 
was  something  in  her  manner  that  excited  his  sur- 
prise. 

"  Take  a  seat,  Miss  Phaybe.  You  are  perhaps 
agitated.  It  is  far  from  the  street,  and  there  are 
many  stairs.  Your  breath  comes  with-a  difficulty. 
Please  to  take  a  seat." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  35 

She  hesitated ;  and  her  looks,  though  dark  and 
sad,  were  inscrutable.  The  color  seemed  to 
heighten  even  while  her  teacher  was  regarding 
her. 

She  was  in  girlish  dress,  —  a  light  fawn-color 
with  scarlet  edges ;  but  she  had  never  seemed 
so  tall  before.  She  appeared  to  rise  visibly  to  a 
stately  height  as  she  stood  there,  so  that  the 
rather  short  skirt  began  to  look  out  of  place. 
Her  full  and  naturally  brilliant  eyes  were  now 
charged  with  emotion,  but  inflamed  and  tearless. 
The  plain  chip  hat,  and  the  full  shining  braids  of 
black  hair,  did  not  seem  to  belong  to  her :  it  was 
as  if  some  queen  of  tragedy  had  put  on  the  head- 
dress of  a  schoolgirl.  This  was  not  the  bright 
and  cheerful  creature  whose  coming  had  always 
been  like  a  sunbeam.  She  was  persuaded  to  sit; 
but  she  did  not  remove  her  hat,  and  she  kept  her 
roll  of  music  in  her  hand. 

"  Some-a  thing  troubles  you,  Miss  Phaybe,"  he 
said.  But  here  he  checked  himself,  with  the 
thought  that  it  was  not  delicate  to  invite  a  young 
girl's  confidence ;  and,  changing  the  intended  sen- 
tence, he  added,  "  but  we  will  try  the  les-son.  It 
is  a  lovely  melody ;  and,  in  the  high  and  pure  at- 
mosphere of  Mozart,  we  will-a  forget  whatever  is 
annoying." 

"  I  cannot  sing, "  she  said.  It  was  as  if  all  the 
sorrows  of  all  her  sex  had  found  expression  in 
those  three  words.  Her  look  was  not  so  melan- 
choly as  it  was  abstracted,  or  perhaps  indicative 
of  a  slowly  receding  storm  of  anger, 


36  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Signer  Belvedere  was  puzzled.  He  opened  the 
piano,  ran  his  fingers  lightly  over  the  keys,  struck 
handsful  of  pathetic  minor  chords,  and  then,  as  if 
after  struggling  with  them,  wrested  the  secret  sor- 
row, and  turned  them  perforce  into  new  and 
joyous  combinations.  Leading  up  to  the  melody 
of  the  lesson,  the  piano  sang  it  like  a  prima  donna. 
It  was  a  call,  he  thought,  that  the  heart  of  a  singer 
could  not  resist.  He  looked  at  his  pupil  with  an 
eloquent  interrogation  as  he  was  ending  the  strain ; 
but  she  shook  her  head,  and  dropped  her  eyes. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  shall  take  lessons  —  at 
least  now.  I  am  going  away  —  I  must  leave  my, 
—  that  is,  Mrs.  Prescott.  I  —  I  may  have  to  care 
for  myself,  and  there  will  be  no  money  for  les- 
sons." There  were  no  sobs,  only  the  same  steady, 
unreadable  looks. 

He  left  the  instrument,  and  sat  down  near  her, 
looking  at  her  fixedly  but  tenderly.  "And  pray 
what  has  happen-ed  ?  Mistress  Prescott  loves  you 
like  a  mother,  does  she  not?" 

"  Yes ;  Mrs.  Prescott  is  good  to  me.  I  ought  to 
like  her  for  mere  gratitude,  and  I  do  like  her. 
She  is  kind." 

"  She  is  religious  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  devoted  to  her  church.  I  suppose 
you  know  she  has  a  room  with  stained-glass  win- 
dows, and  religious  pictures,  and  kneeling  hassocks 
for  morning  and  evening  prayers, — an  oratory." 

"  Engleesh !  "  said  the  teacher  with  a  comic 
shrug. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  37 

"  I  suppose  so.  You  know  she  was  born  in 
England,  and  has  relatives  living  in  Lancashire. 
If  you  are  much  with  her,  you  will  hear  of  her 
famil}-,  especially  of  her  grandfather,  the  Admiral 
who  fought  at  Trafalgar." 

This  coldly  critical  tone  was  quite  unusual. 
Phoebe  was  naturally  affectionate,  and  inclined  to 
playfulness;  and  it  seemed  now  as  if  she  were 
piqued,  and  seeking  reasons  to  justify  her  ill  tem- 
per. 

"  Mr.  Prescott  —  is  he  not  good  also  ?  " 

"  The  dearest  good  man  that  ever  lived.  He  is 
all  goodness.  I  am  sorry  for  him." 

"  You  are-a  —  sorry  for  him,  eh?" 

"  Yes.  His  partner  is  Mr.  Gibbs.  Do  you  know 
him  ?  I  think  Mr.  Prescott  is  afraid  of  him.  Mr. 
Prescott  is  domestic,  and  cares  little  for  fashion. 
And  the  stepson"  — 

As  she  paused,  the  teacher's  eyes  wore  a  keen 
look.  "  And-a  —  the  stepson  ?  " 

"  The  stepson  Roderick,  who  now  has  the  step- 
father's name,  is  a  person  of  whom"  — 

She  set  her  lips  firmly,  and  was  silent. 

"And-a  the  stepson  is  the  person  with  whom 
Miss  Phaybe  is  angry  ?  " 

What  she  thought  was  unutterable :  what  he 
was  the  course  of  the  story  may  show.  As  he 
then  appeared  to  her,  he  was  a  person  for  whom 
she  felt  something  like  contempt.  His  slight  and 
elegant  figure  was  before  her,  as  when,  dressed  in 
faultless  costume,  he  was  sauntering  towards  the 


38  MAN  PROPOSES. 

club.  She  had  marked  his  smiles  for  people  of 
condition,  and  his  polished  indifference  or  inso- 
lence to  others.  She  had  seen  his  levity,  and  his 
respectful  disrespect  to  his  parents ;  and  she  had 
felt  an  aversion  to  any  personal  contact  with  him 
which  could  be  expressed  only  by  inarticulate 
sounds  and  by  certain  urgent  feminine  adjectives. 
She  believed  him  a  smooth  hypocrite,  a  selfish 
seeker  of  pleasure,  without  conscience  or  honor. 
Not  that  she  had  cultivated  the  power  of  analysis, 
or  could  have  put  in  due  phrases  her  view  of  his 
character.  That  was  the  way  he  had  affected 
her. 

Her  silence  was  significant,  and  the  teacher 
made  a  tack. 

"  You  have  been  my  pupil,  Miss  Phaybe,  four-a 
years;  is  it  not  so?  And  before  that  —  before 
you  lived  with  Mistress  Prescott — where  was 
your  home  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Maloney,  a  washer-woman,  brought  me 
up.  I  do  not  remember  my  parents.  I  have  only 
a  faint  recollection  of  the  looks  of  my  mother." 

"I  shall-a  respect  Mistress  Maloney  from  this 
time.  There  are  many  noble  people  of  the  Irish 
race,  but  it  is  evident  that  you  are  not-a  one  of 
them.  Your  figure,  your  eyes,  the  contour  of  your 
face,  your  complexion,  are  more  trustworthy  as 
evidence  than  a  register  of  baptism.  The  Eng- 
lish have  a  blunt  but  expressive  saying,  'Blood 
will  tell.'  You  have,  as  I  read  you,  the  hair  and 
eyes  of  an  Italian  mother,  and  the  height,  the 


MAN  PROPOSES.  39 

erectness,  the  profile,  and  the  brilliant  complexion 
of  an  English  father.  But  it-a  does  not  matter. 
You  are  a  good  girl,  and  my  dear,  splendid  pupil ; 
and  I  am  proud  of  you." 

Phoebe's  eyes  began  to  grow  misty.  The  con- 
jectures as  to  her  parentage  did  not  interest  her 
greatly ;  as  all  previous  inquiries  in  her  behalf  had 
been  baffled,  and  she  had  settled  into  contented 
ignorance.  But  her  teacher's  sudden  tenderness 
touched  her. 

"  And  I  shall  give  you  lessons  so  longg  as  you 
will  come.  If  the  worst  comes,  —  and  who  but  the 
All-Wise  knows  what  is  the  worst?  —  you  can 
singg.  You  will  have  success.  You  will  capti- 
vate." Phoebe  still  meditated.  "I  suppose,"  he 
continued,  "that  it  has  lately  come  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  some  young  gentlemen,  that  you  are  no 
longer  a  tall  and  large  schoolgirl,  that  you  are 
a  young  lady,  and  handsome,  —  a  per-son  to  be 
lov-ed." 

His  tone  was  airy  and  pleasant ;  but  the  words 
brought  a- deeper  flush  to  her  cheeks.  She  hastily 
sought  to  parry.  "I  might  give  lessons  —  to 
beginners,"  she  said,  "  or  sing  in  a  choir." 

"  Ah,  that  is  easy,  if  you  do  not-a  —  get  married. 
While  you  singg,  you  must  give  your  life  to  your 
art.  Per-haps  you  will  prefer  to  marry  ?  There 
is  a  beautiful  vista  in  the  future  for  every  young 
lady,  —  her  own  especial  private  vista ;  but  at  the 
end  of  ever-y  one  is  a  church  with  a  bridal  party 
coming  out  of  it,  —  and  she  knows  who  is  wearing 
the  orange-blossoms." 


40  MAN  PROPOSES. 

She  almost  smiled  at  his  raillery,  but  soon 
became  grave  again.  "  I  hope  to  get  something 
to  do,  for  I  must.  I  cannot  stay  with  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott." 

"  Don't  be  rash,  my  dear  young  lady !  We 
must  not-a  give  the  world  more  to  talk  about 
than  we  can-a  help.  The  stepson  Roderigo  may 
be  a  gay  impertinent ;  but  his  mother  "  — 

"  It  is  his  mother  who  schemes  for  him.  If  any 
one  were  likely  to  share  Mr.  Prescott's  fortune,  as, 
perhaps,  I  might,  she  would  try  to  unite  that  share 
with  her  son's.  She  has  even  told  me  so."  It  was 
in  a  swift,  angry  way  that  she  spoke,  and  to  her 
great  mortification  the  moment  after. 

"  What  frankness !  It  is-a  like  the  sweet  sim- 
plicity of  the  golden  age !  And  so  you  do  not-a 
love  him  ?  " 

"I  detest  him  more  every  day.  When  he  did 
not  appear  to  notice  me,  I  liked  him  better." 

"And  so  you  have  blossom-ed  into  his-a  lord- 
ship's notice,  eh?  I  am  not-a  your  father  con- 
fessor; but  is  this  all?" 

She  thought  it  was  much,  and  more  than 
enough ;  but  she  did  not  answer  his  question.  She 
remembered  vividly  that  her  protector's  nephew, 
Robert  Prescott,  had  manifested  a  most  eager 
interest,  not  only  in  her  studies  but  in  her  welfare, 
and  had  seemed  bent  upon  giving  himself  the  sole 
charge  of  her  future,  whether  she  would  or  no. 
Signor  Belvedere  was  riot  her  father  confessor,  and 
she  only  blushed  in  silence. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  41 

Signer  Belvedere  observed  her  slight  confusion, 
and  forbore.  But  he  returned  with  his  fatherly 
advice. 

"My  dear  youngg-a  lady,  it  is  a  very  impor- 
tant step.  I  beg  of  you  take-a  time  to  think. 
Do  not  count  on  getting  new  friends  like  the  old 
ones.  A  new  social  status  is  not  always  practica- 
ble, if  desirable.  There  are  per-sons  now,  —  old 
fellows,  to  be  sure,  —  who  will-a  consider  your 
welfare  as  their  own.  Remain,  I  ask  you,  —  as  a 
father,  I  ask  you,  —  remain  with  Mistress  Prescott 
for  a  few  days,  a  week.  I  cannot-a  say  what  I 
will  do ;  but  I  will  do  something.  Who  knows 
but  the  young  man  Roderigo  will  go  to  the  war  ? 
All  the  young  fellows  are  going ;  capitanos,  colo- 
nels, in  plenty.  Perhaps  he,  too,  will  march  away, 
vhistling,  '  The  girl  I  left  behind  me.' " 

She  did  not  answer.  Her  mind  was  so  fixed  in 
the  idea  of  seeking  a  new  home,  that  her  teacher's 
arguments  had  no  force.  No  matter  at  what  cost, 
she  must  get  away.  She  felt  that  she  could  not 
meet  Mrs.  Prescott  nor  her  son.  But  her  resolve, 
like  the  secret  of  her  disquiet,  was  kept  in  her 
own  breast. 

"  And  what  of  the  other  young  man,  —  the 
other  Prescott  ?  I  have  seen  him  but  once  ;  but  I 
shall  not-a  soon  forget  his  picturesque  face,  his 
athletic  form,  his  flowing  brown  hair,  and  eyes  of 
steel-blue." 

It  was  still  in  a  light  and  pleasant  tone  that  he 
spoke  ;  but  the  effect  was  evident.  Phoebe's  con- 


42  MAN  PROPOSES. 

fusion  was  increased ;  but  in  a  moment  the  expres- 
sion of  her  eyes  visibly  softened. 

"  He  has  been  a  divinity  student,"  she  said  with 
some  effort,  "  and  he  intends  to  be  a  missionary." 

"A  missionary!  in  partibus  infidelium.  And  so 
you  don't  want  to  go  to  Asia,  no,  nor  to  Africa, 
nor  yet  to  convert  the  heathens  of  Roma,  or  of 
Paris.  And  perhaps  you  do  not  Aspire  to  be  the 
sposa  of  a  priest  at  all  ?  " 

Phrebe  struggled  with  some  rising  thought,  but 
answered  in  a  mild  voice,  "  Perhaps  I  shall  have  a 
career  of  my  own.  I  hope  to  follow  my  art." 

"  Brava !  But  I  am  afraid,  after  all,  you  will 
follow  your  heart." 

Phoebe  laughed  :  her  rigid  ill  humor  had  begun 
to  soften.  The  master  rose  and  went  to  the  piano. 
Once  more  he  played  the  chords  of  Voi  che  sapete, 
and  looked  wistfully  at  her.  She  came  to  his  side, 
and  began  the  song.  The  unusual  excitement  had 
given  a  new  energy  to  her  nerves.  Her  lovely 
face  was  radiant  with  the  heightened  feeling. 
Her  breast  heaved  with  deep  and  sustained  respi- 
rations. Her  voice  poured  out  in  grand  volume, 
but  obedient  in  every  swelling  wave  to  the  con- 
trol of  the  mind.  The  phrases  were  exquisitely 
marked,  and  blended  into  an  artistic  unity.  It 
was  the  magnificent  utterance  of  a  cultured 
singer,  who,  though  long  trained,  had  never 
before  put  forth  her  strength,  and  had  never  ap- 
parently been  conscious  of  it.  In  one  step  she 
had  reached  the  pinnacle. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  43 

When  she  ceased,  there  was  a  silence  that  tin- 
gled. The  master  had  inadvertently  moved  side- 
wise  to  the  sunny  window,  and  was  looking  at  a 
rare  Japanese  plant  decked  with  sweet-smelling 
white  blossoms.  As  he  returned  with  a  sprig  of 
glistening  leaves  and  blossoms  in  his  hand,  Phoebe 
noticed  that  he  had  furtively  put  away  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  that  his  usually  serene  features 
showed  the  liveliest  emotion.  A  mocking-bird, 
that  up  to  this  time  had  been  good-humoredly  pip- 
ing some  simple  notes  over  his  seeds,  now  struck 
up  a  brilliant  strain,  shooting  through  scales  and 
variations  with  dazzling  rapidity,  trilling  as  if  his 
little  heart  were  throbbing  with  ecstasy,  and  then 
lapsing  into  tones  of  delicious  languor.  It  was  a 
gay  counterpart  of  the  song,  —  the  bird's  version 
of  the  sentiment  against  the  young  prima  donna's. 

Signor  Belvedere,  pointing  to  the  cage  with  an 
assumed  gallantry  (for  in  his  heart  he  was  so  en- 
raptured that  his  joy  was  like  a  pain),  exclaimed, 
"  My  bird,  Miss  Phaybe,  saves  me  the  necessity  of 
compliment.  What  I  could  not  utter,  his  songg 
has  exemplified.  It  is  not  to  every  one  that  this 
intelligent  feather-ed  critic  gives  his  praise.  Be- 
lieve-a  me,  I  never  heard  bird  or  damsel  singg  so 
before.  Wear  this  little  flower,  if  you  will.  It 
will  fade ;  but  I  shall  not-a  forget."  He  turned 
his  back  and  whipped  out  his  handkerchief,  and 
then  added,  "I  have  something  of  cold  in-a  my 
eyes." 

She  was  so  much  affected  by  his  sudden  change 


44  MAN  PROPOSES. 

of  manner  and  by  the  intensity  of  feeling  in  his 
tones,  that  she  could  not  utter  a  word  of  reply. 
She  silently  grasped  his  hand,  then  flung  a  kiss  to 
the  bird,  who  was  still  trilling  and  caracoling 
gayly,  and  lightly  stepped  down  the  stairs  as  if 
descending  from  the  heavens. 

"  She  is  a  good  girl,"  he  soliloquized,  "  and  she  is 
an  inspir-ed  singer,  one  born  to  reveal  the  glory  of 
music  to  the  world."  He  looked  at  his  watch. 
It  was  eleven  o'clock.  "Two  more  pupils  this 
morning.  Oh  the  thick  ugly  voices !  I  cannot-a 
bear  them.  After  that  song  —  those  notes  of  an 
angel  ?  No.  The  air  is  clear.  The  east  wind  has 
blown  away  the  dull  odors,  and  has  left  a  sweet 
breath  in  heaven.  I  will  promenade.  No  more 
lessons  to-day." 

He  selected  a  Malacca  stick  from  the  sheaf  of 
fencing-foils  suspended  over  the  mantel,  put  on 
his  invariable  black  coat,  and  walked  out. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  45 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ROBERT  PRESCOTT  in  his  heart  was  chiefly  a 
poet.  He  was  devoted  to  his  intended  calling, 
and  sincerely  religious  ;  but  he  looked  at  religion, 
as  he  did  at  nature,  through  the  medium  of  imagi- 
nation ;  and  with  him  truth  and  beauty  were  har- 
monized. He  had  never  wrought  out  a  stanza; 
but  duty  in  any  guise  to  him  looked  noble,  and 
the  world  was  always  a  pictured  poem.  The 
bright  flower  of  poetry  in  youth  is  love ;  but 
before  this  the  severe  student  had  not  recognized 
it.  His  pupil  in  Virgil  was  but  lately  developed 
from  a  tall  and  rather  awkward  girl  into  a  magni- 
ficent woman ;  and  the  amateur  grammar-master 
fancied  himself  the  first  to  observe  the  phenome- 
non. 

There  is  a  spring  every  year;  but  when  the 
warm  days  come,  and  the  poplars  have  a  sheen  of 
silver,  and  the  horse-chestnuts  are  seen  in  an 
emerald  haze,  —  when  the  pear-trees  are  studded 
with  white  clusters,  and  the  apple-trees  spread 
their  tops  like  huge  pink  bouquets,  it  seems 
dways  as  miraculous  as  if  it  were  a  special  display 
of  the  Lord  of  gardens.  Year  by  year,  too,  these 
ungainly  schoolgirls,  with  short  dresses  and  long 
braids,  with  unshapely  arms,  and  apparently  large 


46  MAN  PROPOSES. 

feet,  are  developed  into  the  roundness,  the  sweet 
dignity  and  grace  of  young  womanhood ;  and 
every  one  witnesses  the  change  with  a  new  sur- 
prise. 

Robert  Prescott  thought  from  the  first  that  he 
had  never  seen  a  girl  that  promised  to  become  so 
fine  a  woman.  She  appeared  sensible,  modest, 
delicate  to  a  fault,  and  capable  of  enthusiasm. 
Through  the  year  this  conviction  had  grown 
stronger;  and  now,  at  the  time  of  this  morning 
walk,  he  was  conscious  of  trying  to  suppress  a 
glowing  and  all-absorbing  passion. 

It  is  apparently  the  belief  of  some  that  every 
man  when  in  love  loses  his  intellectual  character 
and  power  of  expression,  and  that  he  must  neces- 
sarily stammer  out  his  passion  in  short  pointless 
sentences,  such  as  the  shallow  and  thoughtless 
use.  It  was  not  so  with  Robert  Prescott.  Accus- 
tomed to  silent  meditation,  animated  by  one  great 
and  absorbing  purpose,  accustomed  to  blend  all 
thoughts  and  delights  with  the  service  of  God, 
accustomed,  too,  to  thinking  in  set  phrases,  as  if 
framing  homilies  or  prayers,  his  exuberance  of 
poetry  and  piety  appeared  to  have  been  thought 
out  beforehand ;  when,  in  fact,  his  strong  and 
steady  flow  of  speech  was  but  the  fusion  of  all 
feelings  and  ideas  in  a  solemn  yet  uplifting  love 
of  the  Divine  Being. 

It  was  not  for  such  a  man,  when  once  aroused, 
to  content  himself  with  timid  monosyllables  in  the 
presence  of  his  beloved.  He  had  broken  away 


MAN  PROPOSES.  47 

from  the  office  of  Prescott  &  Co.  by  some  resist- 
less impulse,  and  strode  out  for  a  walk.  As  he 
neared  the  Common,  the  elms  seemed  to  wave  him 
a  welcome,  and  the  long  brown  malls  opened  invit- 
ingly. Cool  airs  played  with  his  hair  as  he  raised 
his  hat  under  the  shade ;  and  the  peace  of  the  blue 
heaven  came  through  the  open-work  of  leaves. 
He  was  mentally  putting  things  in  order  for  a 
return  to  his  higher  duties.  The  image  of  his 
pupil,  spelling  her  way  through  the  Latin  lesson, 
or  singing  in  her  grand  and  natural  way,  he  would 
not  allow  himself  to  contemplate.  He  compelled 
himself  to  think  of  his  preparations  and  his  depart- 
ure, —  perhaps-  to  a  foreign  land. 

But  there  was  a  figure  not  far  distant,  moving 
with  a  graceful  step,  and  it  began  to  grow  famil- 
iar. Should  he  turn,  and  walk  the  other  way  ? 

Phoebe,  after  leaving  the  master,  walked  briskly 
along,  her  steps  keeping  time  to  the  inspiring 
strains  that  still  rang  in  her  ears.  She'  did  not 
wish  to  meet  the  family  in  such  a  state  of  excite- 
ment, for  she  knew  her  cheeks  were  like  blood 
peaches;  and,  in  truth,  the  more  she  thought  of 
it,  the  idea  of  returning  home  at  all  was  insup- 
portable. She  had  no  definite  purpose  beyond 
that  of  enjoying  a  walk  and  of  considering  what 
she  was  to  do ;  and  she  entered  the  Common,  and 
turned  into  a  narrow  path  that  led  to  a  broader 
mall  under  old  trees  veiled  in  tender  green.  The 
birds  overhead  sang  incessantly :  it  seemed  to  her 
that  they  knew  their  auditor,  and  rejoiced  in  her. 


48  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Sparrows  hopped  along  on  either  side,  looking  up 
at  her  saucily,  and  now  and  then  stopping  to 
flutter  over  a  dusty  spot  as  if  taking  a  sand-bath. 
Nursery-maids  with  stout  arms,  and  with  faces 
unwriukled  by  care,  were  pushing  jolly  young 
aristocrats  about  in  perambulators.  Pigeons  cooed 
and  loitered,  or  strutted  and  sidled,  and  came  up 
fearlessly  to  get  the  crumbs  which  the  children 
threw.  But  Phosbe  met  no  one  whom  she  knew ; 
and  she  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  the  grateful  shade, 
and  the  cooling  wind  upon  her  still  glowing 
cheeks.  If  one  wishes  to  be  unobserved  by  the 
world  of  fashion,  a  shady  mall  among  the  loveliest 
sights  and  most  soothing  sounds  is  the  safest  re- 
treat. 

She  had  not  brought  her  meditations  to  any 
point,  but  was  still  drifting  in  a  sea  of  revery, 
when  she  was  aware  of  a  firm,  springy  step 
behind  her,  every  moment  coming  nearer.  In- 
stinctively turning,  she  saw  Robert  Prescott. 

Phoebe's  look,  as  she  paused  for  a  moment,  was 
unmistakably  one  of  frank  surprise  and  pleasure  ; 
but  Robert  was  disconcerted  and  unready.  The 
sense  of  coming  difficulties  oppressed  him.  The 
very  sincerity  of  his  respect  for  womanhood,  and 
the  fervor  of  his  hidden  affection,  made  him  hesi- 
tate awkwardly.  He  had  always  envied  in  men 
of  the  world  their  easy  and  triumphant  approach 
to  women,  and  was  vexed  with  himself  that  he, 
who  had  a  right  to  be  unabashed,  and  frank  in 
manner,  in  the  presence  of  the  best,  should  never 
be  able  to  do  as  he  would. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  49 

Hs  took  off  his  hat,  bowed,  and  smiled ;  but  a 
tutor  in  "  deportment "  would  have  seen  much  in 
him  to  criticise. 

"  You  come  from  your  lesson,  I  suppose  ?  How 
delightful  that  I  meet  you,  and  on  this  day,  too, 
when  I  am  about  going  away  from  —  from  Bos- 
ton !  "  It  was  out,  though  he  had  just  resolved  to 
leave  that  piece  of  news  till  the  last. 

She  answered  with  a  sweet  gravity,  — 

"Are  you  going  away ?     Isn't  it  sudden  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  going  is  rather  sudden ;  though  I 
have  long  intended  it." 

"  Just  think !  I  shall  miss  the  last  of  the  ec- 
logues ! " 

"  How  happy  I  should  be  in  parting  with  you 
to  miss  nothing  more  than  the  eclogues ! " 

"Oh,  surely  I  didn't  mean  that  I  shouldn't 
miss  you  too  !  You  have  always  been  very  kind. 
I  thank  you  very  much." 

"  I  don't  deserve  the  least  thanks,  if  you  are 
thinking  of  the  lessons.  It  was  pure  pleasure, 
and  I  was  wholly  selfish.  I  wish  the  lessons  had 
been  twice  as  many,  and "  —  As  he  paused  to 
look  at  her,  she  cleverly  avoided  the  expected 
turn  of  the  sentence. 

"  Does  Mr.  Prescott,  your  uncle,  know  of  your 
going?" 

"  Perhaps  not  yet.  I  have  just  written  my  res- 
ignation, and  left  it  on  Mr.  Gibbs's  desk.' 

"  They  will  miss  you  at  the  office." 

"In  business,  Phoebe,  no  one  is  missed.    Another 


50  MAN  PROPOSES. 

man  will  sit  at  my  desk.  Every  thing  will  go  on 
as  before.  Among  friends  the  case  is  different. 
It  is  pleasant,  —  and  sad  too." 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  moment.  The 
self-denial  he  had  imposed  upon  himself  began  to 
give  way  before  the  rising  current  of  feeling. 
Hardly  knowing  what  he  said,  or  whither  his  pas- 
sion was  leading  him,  while  a  luminous  paleness 
overspread  his  face,  he  faltered  out  in  a  helpless 
way, — 

"  If  I  might  hope,  Phcebe  —  yes,  I  am  sure  you 
must  know  my  secret :  I  must  have  told  it  a  thou- 
sand times  as  we  read  together.  My  eyes  have 
betrayed  me,  I  know,  and  my  voice.  O  Phoebe  ! 
while  I  taught  you  Latin,  I  was  studying  a  far 
deeper  lesson,  —  a  lesson  so  absorbing,  so  momen- 
tous !  A  life-time  wouldn't  be  enough.  You 
must  have  seen  it.  I  have  struggled  against  my 
feelings  in  vain.  I  thought  I  could  be  brave ;  but 
.  now,  with  my  solemn  duty  before  me,  and  upon 
the  point  of  separation,  I  am  the  most  wretched 
of  mankind." 

He  looked  at  her  beseechingly  as  if  he  would 
read  her  soul,  and  find  there  some  encouragement. 
She  did  not  speak.  With  a  still  more  earnest 
tone,  he  went  on,  — 

"  If  I  were  thinking  of  myself  alone,  I  would 
risk  every  thing,  but  the  favor  of  my  Divine  Mas- 
ter, for  your  sake.  But  I  have  to  consider  others. 
You  are  the  idol  of  my  uncle,  and  I  would  not 
win  the  heart  of  his  darling  without  his  full  con- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  51 

sent.  May  I  ask  him,  Phoebe  ?  With  all  my  soul 
in  my  words,  may  I  go  to  him,  and  ask  his  for- 
giveness for  robbing  him  of  you  ?  " 

The  situation  was  delicate.  She  could  not  tell 
him  of  the  occurrence  of  the  morning,  and  what 
was  now  in  her  mind ;  but  she  said  earnestly,  — 

"Don't,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  go  to  Mr.  Pres- 
cott!" 

"But  he  would  not  object,  —  not  long,  —  if — if 
he  knew  your  happiness  were  at  stake." 

"  I  cannot  say  that  —  cannot  say  that  my  happi- 
ness depends  upon  any  one.  I  am  not  happy." 

There  was  a  sense  of  loneliness  in  the  tone. 

"  My  dear  Phcebe,  you  don't  know  yourself.  If 
ever  woman  was" —  He  checked  himself.  "I 
mean  to  say  that  love  and  marriage  are  divinely 
appointed,  and  belong  of  right  to  the  purest  souls. 
Your  noble  nature  will  know,  must  know  some 
time,  what  it  is  to  love." 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  may  be.  I  haven't  thought 
of  it."  This  in  a  low  and  innocent  tone. 

"  May  I  not  hope  that  at  least  I  do  not  repel 
you,  that  you  would  think  me  deserving  —  in  a 
measure  —  of  your  affection  ?  " 

With  perfect  sincerity  she  answered  slowly,  — 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  you,  —  not  in  the  way 
you  speak.  You  do  not  repel  me ;  for  I  respect 
you,  and  trust  you.  I  have  not  thought  of  any 
other  feeling  towards  you." 

What  she  did  not  say  was,  that  she  felt  herself 
at  a  distance  from  him;  that  with  her  respect 


52  MAN  PROPOSES. 

and  trust  was  blended  the  reverence  due  a  supe- 
rior being ;  that  his  powerful  mind  and  high  prin- 
ciples, to  say  nothing  of  his  grave  ways,  made  him 
unapproachable ;  and,  above  all,  that  his  chosen 
profession  was  associated  in  her  mind  with  painful 
solemnities,  —  with  the  repression  of  music  and 
natural  gayety,  and  with  the  shadows  of  unending 
gloom.  If  she  thought  of  him  with  admiration,  it 
was  blended  with  awe.  Now  was  the  moment 
when  the  want  of  sympathy  was  a  barrier  almost 
like  that  between  the  seen  and  the  unseen  world. 

"  And  so  you  look  up  to  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  must." 

"I  might  say  the  same.  I  have  perhaps  some 
gifts  that  impress  you ;  but  I  am  very  flesh  and 
blood,  brother  to  the  humblest ;  and,  when  I  see 
a  pure  and  gentle  soul  like  yours,  I  look  up  to 
it  with  the  longing  of  a  child  for  a  star." 

"  You  don't  do  justice  to  yourself.  Your  whole 
life  is  above  mine." 

"  This  is  the  inexperience  of  youth,  Phoebe.  You 
are  cultivated  in  your  own  way.  Your  feelings 
are  the  same." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  I  have  often  listened  to 
you.  You  read  as  no  one  else  does ;  and  you  find 
what  others  do  not  see,  —  even  in  a  sunset.  You 
seem  to  have  a  world  of  your  own." 

"  This  is  cruel,  to  place  me  on  an  eminence 
where  I  do  not  belong,  and  to  leave  me  there 
alone.  If  you  please,  I'd  rather  come  down  from 
the  pedestal." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  53 

Nothing  was  so  stimulating  to  Robert  as  the 
idea  of  a  comparison  or  of  some  form  of  reasoning ; 
and  for  the  moment  his  feverish  pulse  subsided 
while  he  endeavored  to  argue  with  her  about  the 
harmony  of  different  "  spheres." 

"  Even  if  I  were  such  a  being  —  I  won't  say 
such  an  idol  —  as  you  set  up,  should  I  find  my 
other  self  in  a  woman  of  masculine  force  and  fibre  ? 
Not  so,  my  dear  Phoebe.  It  is  a  beautiful  para- 
dox the  Creator  sets  before  us,  that  the  touch  of 
a  gentle  girl's  finger  is  as  potent  as  the  grip  of  an 
athlete.  Did  you  ever  read  Jonathan  Edwards's 
letter  to  the  young  lady  whom  he  afterwards  mar- 
ried ?  —  and  you  know  what  a  Titan  in  mind  he 
was.  There  is  nothing  more  tender,  more  beau- 
tiful, even  in  Shakspeare.  It  breathes  the  fra- 
grance of  love,  and  you  seem  to  see  blossoms  of 
poesy  springing  up  among  the  simple  words." 

While  Robert  was  philosophizing,  Phoebe's  agi- 
tation had  time  to  subside.  She  delighted  in  his 
talk,  except  when  it  took  a  strong  personal  turn. 
She  had  nothing  against  clergymen  —  in  the  pul- 
pit. The  rustle  of  a  black  gown,  when  too  near, 
made  her  shiver. 

"  Perhaps  you  think  me  gloomy.  I  may  appear 
so  ;  but  my  thoughts  are  bright  to  me  ;  my  soul's 
horizon  is  all  glorious.  I  say  it  with  all  my  heart, 
only  the  religious  man  has  the  full  sense  of  the 
loveliness  and  the  poetry  of  nature ;  and  it  is  he 
who  has  the  highest  and  least  selfish  love  for 
woman.  Gloomy  as  you  may  think  me?  I  am  full 


54  MAN  PROPOSES. 

of  rapture,  even  to  be  near  you.  For  you  are  so 
beautiful  as  I  look  at  you, — your  noble  head, 
your  sensitive  eyes  —  every  fibre  in  me  is  trem- 
bling with  delight." 

She  felt  strangely  moved  by  his  impassioned 
manner ;  but  still  with  every  sentence  there  was 
a  rustle  of  the  black  gown.  He,  too,  felt  that  he 
had  been  sailing  on  the,  wrong  tack ;  but  his  strong 
soul  would  not  mind  the  helm.  He  was  not 
urging  his  suit  wholly  as  a  man:  though  con- 
scious of  the  disadvantage,  he  seemed  trying  des- 
perately to  carry  his  theological  opinions,  his 
chosen  profession,  and  himself,  all  together,  and 
win  her  acceptance  of  the  whole. 

As  Phcebe  appeared  absorbed  in  contemplating 
the  smooth  gravel  of  the  mall,  he  went  on  :  — 

"  I  often  think  of  the  Providence  that  led  me 
here,  and  to  meet  with  you,  the  one  I  would  have 
chosen  from  among  all  living.  My  leaving  off 
study  for  a  year  was  a  cross ;  but  now  I  see  it  was 
a  blessing.  My  parents  —  you  will  go  some  time 
to  Eaglemont,  and  see  them  —  have  toiled  and 
saved  and  prayed  for  me,  not  that  I  might  be  rich 
or  great,  only  for  the  glory  of  God.  For  my  suc- 
cess nothing  was  considered  too  great  a  sacrifice. 
They  were  content  to  live  meanly,  so  that  I  could 
be  fitted  for  the  ministry.  I  don't  feel  worthy  of 
such  love." 

It  was  in  a  tender,  almost  pathetic  tone  he 
spoke ;  and  sentence  had  succeeded  sentence  as  if 
\&  were  impelled  by  some  unseen  power.  But 


MAN  PROPOSES.  55 

Phoebe  still  felt  no  sense  of  neawess,  and  mani- 
fested no  wish  to  reply.  He  began  to  think  again 
that  such  a  high  and  holy  strain  might  not  be  the 
means  to  win  the  heart  of  a  bright  young  woman 
just  out  of  her  teens. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  should  repeat  these 
things ;  but  I  can't  help  it.  I  seem  to  be  un- 
twisting the  inmost  strands  of  my  being;  and  I 
find  my  love  for  the  dear  ones,  and  for  you,  —  for 
you,  my  darling  "  (somewhat  falteringly  spoken), 
are  twined  with  the  greater  Love  which  is  given 
us  from  on  high.  There  they  are,  all  the  strands 
together.  I  cannot  simply  say  I  love  you.  I  do 
love  you ;  but  I  seem  to  be  held  with  you  in  the 
Almighty  arms. 

"Tell  me,"  at  length  he  said,  almost  despair- 
ingly, —  "  tell  me  how  I  can  touch  your  heart !  I 
know  you  are  not  cold.  I  am  the  one  at  fault. 
I  am  the  drifting  iceberg,  bringing  a  chill  into 
your  sunny  atmosphere.  You  have  different  asso- 
ciations. God  has  been  for  you  an  awful  name 
perhaps,  and  you  shudder  at  hearing  it,  while  I  am 
warm  in  his  pervasive  light." 

"  I  don't  think  I  look  at  things  as  you  do,"  she 
said ;  "  but  the  Creator  does  not  seem  to  me  an 
awful  being." 

"Even  the  highest  natures  differ  in  their  con- 
ceptions of  the  Infinite :  to  some  his  power  is 
revealed ;  to  others,  his  love.  Two  souls  may  not 
have  an  identical  view,  but  they  may  yet  love 
each  other  fervently.  But  why  can't  we  drop 


56  MAN  PROPOSES. 

theology?  and  let  me  say  once  more,  'I  love 
you.'" 

She  had  been  quite  willing  that  theology  should 
be  dropped,  but  not  desirous  to  hear  his  confession 
over  again. 

"  I  can't  help  thinking  of  one  thing,"  she  said 
with  some  hesitation.  "  I  think  of  the  future,  — 
yours  and  mine.  I  can't  think  the  Creator  is  less 
pleased  to  hear  me  sing  than  to  hear  the  birds." 

"  Surely  not.  Music  in  itself  is  pure,  refining, 
ennobling.  But  I  want  you  first  to  feel  an  in- 
terest in  me ;  and,  if  you  think  my  purpose  holy, 
you  would  have  an  interest  in  that  too.  But 
I  don't  even  press  that  now.  I  want  first  your 
love.  I  will  leave  the  future  to  take  care  of  itself 
under  the  guidance  of  Divine  Wisdom.  Believe 
me,  Phoebe,  I  could  die  for  you.  '  Greater  love 
hath  no  man  than  this,  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his 
friend.'  You  see,  I  can't  help  quoting  Scripture." 

"But  I  don't  want  any  one  to  die  for  me,"  she 
answered  with  a  faint  smile.  "  If  I  ever  have  a 
lover,  I  want  him  to  live  for  me." 

"My  dearest,  I  cannot  give  you  up.  I  wish  I 
could  show  you  my  heart  of  heart :  it  has  but  one 
image,  except  my  blessed  Lord's.  Every  thing 
about  you  suggests  beauty  and  perfume  and  good- 
ness. I  have  seen  you  visibly  blooming  like  a 
rosebud.  I  love  you.  I  have  never  felt  the 
thrill  before,  and  it  can  never  come  again." 

"  I  wish  I  could  thank  you.  I  hope  I  am  grate- 
ful ;  but  love,  they  say,  comes  unbidden.  If  I 


MAN  PROPOSES.  57 

don't  love  you,  how  can  I  ? "  She  felt  a  little 
twinge  here,  as  if  this  were  an  unmaidenly  ex- 
pression ;  but  he  had  pressed  her  sorely,  and  she 
was  driven  to  frankness.  She  did  not  wait  for 
him  to  reply,  but  continued,  — 

"  I  beg  of  you,  don't  urge  me  !  While  I  listen, 
I  am  a  bundle  of  feelings ;  but  that  must  pass.  I 
must  be  myself.  I  should  be  miserable  as  a  cler- 
gyman's wife.  You  almost  take  away  my  breath ; 
you  are  so  earnest;  but  I  fear  that  you  are  your- 
self the  reason  I  don't  love  you." 

"But  in  time  you  would  sympathize  with  me, 
and  have  the  same  joy  that  I  do." 

"I  don't  know.  But,  Mr.  Prescott,  this  is 
hardly  fair,  is  it  ?  I  mean,  it  is  not  kind  to  con- 
tinue this.  It  is  hard  to  bear." 

Hitherto  she  had  walked  slowly,  generally  with 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  and  had  spoken  in 
low  and  tremulous  tones.  Now  that  she  had  be- 
gun to  make  a  more  active  resistance,  or  self-asser- 
tion, she  raised  her  head,  and,  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  confronted  the  tall  lover  with  something 
of  a  courage  like  his  own. 

"  Did  you  ever  think,"  she  continued,  "  that  I 
may  have  my  own  necessity,  and  perhaps  my  aspi- 
ration? that  I  might  have  the  feelings  of  an 
artist,  and  that  I  may  become  a  public  singer? 
While  you  were  attending  a  prayer-meeting,  I 
might  be  on  the  stage  of  the  concert-hall  or 
opera." 

His  countenance  fell.     She  saw  her  advantage. 


58  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"My  teacher  has  praised  me  this  morning, — 
praised  me  to  vanity,  perhaps,  —  and  I  feel  sure  I 
shall  sing.  I  may  have  to  earn  my  own  living." 

"  Why,  you  couldn't  think  of  it !  You  surely 
will  never  leave  my  uncle  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  it ;  but  I  think  I  shall  try  to 
find  another  home.  Even  if  I  stay,  I  might  be 
unwilling  to  give  up  my  ideal.  You  would  feel 
pained,  would  you  not,  if  any  one  were  to  ask 
such  a  thing  of  you?  It  would  be  as  if  your 
father  and  mother,  and  your  sweet  sister,  had 
lived  for  you  in  vain." 

This  was  a  new  view.  In  the  conception  of 
two  beings  becoming  gradually  alike  in  thought 
and  life,  it  is  generally  the  woman  that  is  expected 
to  assimilate.  The  young  man  tried  to  think  how 
it  would  look  for  him  to  give  up  the  ministry  to 
become  the  husband  of  an  opera-singer.  It  was 
dreadful.  In  all  his  previous  meditations,  if  there 
had  been  any  moulding  to  be  done,  woman  repre- 
sented the  clay,  and  man  the  potter. 

It  was  with  a  great  gasp  that  Prescott  said,  "  I 
see  the  gulf  between  us.  I  have  already  said  too 
much.  I  had  hoped  your  feelings  would  change  ; 
but  I  see  that  cannot  be.  I  shall  go  into  the  Mas- 
ter's field ;  but  I  shall  go  alone.  Birth  and  death, 
and  a  love  like  mine,  happen  but  once.  Fare- 
well!" 

"  Don't !  "  she  said  eagerly,  —  "  don't  say  those 
despairing  words.  You  will  be  happy,  as  you 
deserve  to  be." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  59 

His  face  resumed  its  solemn  expression,  but 
seemed  to  be  illumined  by  an  inward  light.  His 
voice  faltered.  "Do  not  leave  my  uncle,"  he 
said :  "  you  have  a  home  with  those  who  love  you. 
As  a  singer,  and  among  strangers,  I  dread  to 
think  what  may  happen,  —  what  indignity  you 
may  suffer." 

"  One  may  suffer  indignity  anywhere." 

The  words  brought  an  explosion  like  a  thunder- 
bolt. "  What !  —  Roderick  ?  Has  he  dared  " 

She  felt  her  head  droop,  partly  in  regret  that 
she  had  allowed  such  a  hint  to  escape.  "  I  beg 
you,  be  silent,"  she  said. 

"  Infamous,  silken  reprobate  ! "  he  continued, 
grinding  his  teeth.  "  But  perhaps  he  will  get  a 
commission,  and  go  to  the  war:  I  have  heard  it 
intimated.  But  I  pray  you,  don't  leave  my  uncle. 
He  doats  on  you,  depends  on  your  love.  I  don't 
know  what  the  future  is  to  bring  forth;  but  I 
have  misgivings.  I  suspect  and  fear  Gibbs.  I  am 
afraid  the  time  is  near  when  uncle  will  need  the 
aid  and  sympathy  of  all  who  love  him.  Sing,  my 
dear  Phoebe,  if  you  must,  but  don't  leave  him." 
Here  he  halted  for  a  moment. 

"  You  just  now  said  '  Farewell.'  You  are  not 
going  to  leave  at  once  ?  " 

"  Yes,  at  once.  We  have  rambled  wide ;  but 
here  is  the  end  of  our  path.  Here  I  must  leave 
you  —  forever.  Pardon  me  if  I  don't  come  to  the 
house  to  say  good-by.  I  shall  drop  out  of  the  city 
quietly,  and  be  forgotten."  With  a  sudden  rush 


60  MAN  PROPOSES. 

of  emotion  he  said,  "  May  the  great  Father  of  us 
all  have  you  in  his  hoty  keeping !  May  your 
heart  be  always  like  a  lily  in  his  sight !  God  in 
heaven  bless  you !  " 

It  was  like  the  invocation  of  a  saint.  His  eyes 
were  tearless,  but  unspeakably  tender,  and  the 
glowing  light  came  again  to  his  face  as  he  turned 
away. 

A  sensation  almost  of  awe  fell  upon  her  as  she 
heard  his  parting  blessing,  and  saw  his  rapt  soul 
in  his  eyes ;  and  she  exclaimed,  half  aloud,  "  Oh ! 
why  could  I  not  love  that  noble  man  ?  " 


MAN  PROPOSES.  61 


CHAPTER  V. 

IF  Phoebe  had  lingered,  she  would  have  seen 
on  the  mall  two  persons  in  earnest  conversation, 
whose  meeting  at  such  an  hour,  and  away  from  the 
business  quarter,  would  have  given  her  cause  for 
thought.  Hugh  Prescott,  her  kind  protector,  and 
his  stepson  Roderick,  were  slowly  pacing  the  walk. 
The  elder  walked  slowly,  as  if  carrying  some  un- 
usual burden.  Of  the  young  man  some  hint  has 
already  been  given.  He  was  a  pattern  of  the 
reigning  mode  in  dress  and  manner.  Elegance 
and  an  air  of  studied  indifference  were  plainly 
visible  in  his  features  and  carriage.  The  conver- 
sation was  a  long  one,  and  it  need  not  be  wholly 
reproduced.  It  covered  the  usual  topics  of  dis- 
cussion between  rich  parents  and  prodigal  sons ; 
such  as  horses,  billiards,  clothes,  jewelry,  wines, 
cigars,  clubs,  and  accommodation  notes.  The 
elder  was  vehement :  the  younger  was  provok- 
ingly  cool.  The  elder  wished  the  yo uth  to  know 
that  "the  last  straw"  was  not  a  fabulous  growth, 
but  an  actual  entity :  the  younger,  who  had  passed 
through  many  similar  crises,  believed  that  his 
mother  would  bring  the  enraged  step-father  round, 
as  she  had  often  done  before.  He  made  vague 


62  MAN  PROPOSES. 

promises  of  amendment :  but  the  father  put  no 
faith  in  him ;  he  felt  that  the  youth  could  be 
pinned  to  nothing ;  it  was  time  that  he  should 
know  the  worst. 

"  Roderick,"  said  the  elder  with  a  deep  and 
earnest  tone,  "  I  blame  myself  greatly  for  what 
you  are.  You  are  an  aimless  boy,  without  fixed 
principle,  or  sense  of  responsibility,  without  useful 
education,  and  contributing  nothing  to  the  world, 
not  even  a  good  example." 

"  Fruges  consumere  natus,"  interposed  the  youth, 
with  a  satisfied  smile. 

"I  am  glad  you  remember  three  words  of 
Latin,"  said  the  father  sharply.  "  I  wish  I  had 
put  you  in  the  counting-room,  given  you  a  moder- 
ate salary,  and  made  you  live  on  it.  The  time 
has  come  when  you  might  have  been  of  use.  You 
have  naturally  good  parts,  and  I  need  help.  I 
am  pressed  to  the  wall.  But  you,  —  you  are  a 
butterfly ;  and  I  need  a  man  with  energy,  soul, 
stability." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  this  speech 
that  awakened  the  young  man's  curiosity,  and 
repressed  the  gibe  that  he  was  about  to  utter. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Prescott,  "  if  you  had  been 
trained  to  business,  and  had  given  to  it  half  the 
zeal  you  have  wasted  on  extravagances,  you  might 
perhaps  even  now  do  something." 

The  young  man  remained  silent ;  and  the  elder 
went  on :  — 

"  I  took  Mr.  Gibbs  as  a  partner,  because  he  had 


MAN  PROPOSES.  63 

shown  ability  as  a  business  man,  and  because  I 
thought  that  gratitude,  if  nothing  more,  would 
attach  him  to  my  interest.  I  took  him,  without 
capital,  fifteen  years  ago.  To-day  he  has  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars  ;  and  I  —  I  hate  to  say 
what  I  have.  You  have  spent  a  mint  of  money. 
And  your  mother  —  well,  I  won't  reproach  her : 
she  thought  my  purse  had  no  bottom.  She  spent 
for  flowers  alone,  for  that  last  reception,  nearly  a 
thousand  dollars ;  and  next  day  I  had  to  go,  hat 
in  hand,  to  a  bank  director  to  have  a  note 
extended.  What  the  clergy  manage  to  get  out  of 
her  for  charity,  I  groan  to  think  of.  Our  house 
is  the  resort  of  professors,  foreign  celebrities,  un- 
settled preachers,  and  the  talkers  of  the  Plato  Club. 
But  all  things  have  an  end.  We  have  spent  our 
income,  and  more  too.  It  has  come  to  me  through 
my  nephew,  —  and,  by  the  by,  I  am  sorry  such  a 
level-headed  young  man  is  going  to  be  a  preacher, 
—  it  has  come  to  me  that  Gibbs,  who  has  long 
been  secretly  plotting  to  get  me  ur,der  his  thumb, 
has  been  intriguing  with  the  corporations  owning 
the  mills,  whose  accounts  we  have,  and  expects 
to  force  me  out,  and  be  himself  the  sole  agent. 
This  he  will  do,  when  he  is  ready,  by  demanding 
that  the  partnership  cease,  and  calling  on  me  to 
buy  or  sell.  He  thinks  I  can't  buy ;  and,  as  mat- 
ters now  look,  I  surely  can't.  The  result  will  be 
that  I  shall  have  to  retire, — an  old  man  without 
business,  without  capital,  the  husband  of  a  once 
fashionable  lady,  and  the  father  of  a  prodigal 
son." 


64  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Roderick  hoped  the  matter  was  not  quite  so 
serious.  Mr.  Prescott  went  on :  — 

"  It  is  just  so  serious.  The  information  my 
nephew  gives  me,  though  only  vague  as  to  details, 
tallies  exactly  with  the  observations  of  Amory 
the  clerk,  an  honest  though  scatter-brained  fellow, 
and  explains  some  cautious  suggestions  I  have 
had  from  friends  in  the  business.  In  short,  Roder- 
ick, my  ruin,  your  ruin,  the  ruin  of  the  family,  is 
near  at  hand.  For  myself  I  have  a  little  place  in 
the  town  where  I  was  born,  not  far  from  my  broth- 
er's farm  on  the  old  hill  in  Eaglemont.  I  can  live 
there.  But  your  mother  ?  —  and  you  ?  Now,  while 
I  have  the  money,  I  offer  you  a  draft  of  five  hun- 
dred pounds  to  go  to  Europe  with,  or,"  he  con- 
tinued hesitatingly,  "  if  you  should  want  to  go  to 
the  war, —  mind,  I  don't  advise  it:  God  knows 
I  would  not  put  you  in  the  way  of  a  rebel  bullet, 
— not  half  so  soon  as  I  would  risk  it  for  myself. 
But  many  of  your  set  have  gone ;  and,  if  you  do 
want  to  go,  I  will  get  you  a  commission,  —  that  is, 
if  I  can, — and  give  you  a  handsome  outfit.  I 
don't  want  to  have  you  here  walking  about,  or  tap- 
ping your  boots  with  a  Malacca  cane,  when  I  have 
to  suspend  payment.  I  wish  you  to  make  your 
choice.  You  can  go  up  to  Eaglemont  (the  house 
shall  be  your  mother's,  and  I  will  furnish  it 
comfortably) ;  you  can  take  your  five  hundred 
pounds,  and  go  abroad ;  or,  if  you  feel  inclined, 
freely  and  without  any  urging  of  mine,  to  volun- 
teer, that  course  is  open  to  you.  But  something 
is  to  be  done  at  once." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  65 

"  I  will  volunteer,"  said  Roderick  suddenly. 

"  God  bless  you !  "  said  the  father,  with  a  dash 
of  emotion.  "You  have  the  pluck  of  the  old 
admiral,  your  mother's  grandfather.  I  will  see 
the  governor  at  once,  and  get  you  a  commission." 

But  here  Mr.  Prescott's  face  assumed  a  serious 
look :  his  eyes  began  to  glow,  and  his  breath  came 
fast. 

"There  is  one  matter  which  I  must  speak  of ; 
but  it  wrings  my  heart.  I  am  deeply  pained  to 
confront  you :  I  would  rather  lose  all  I  am  worth. 
While  it  was  doubtful  what  your  decision  would 
be,  I  would  not  bring  it  up.  I  would  not  use  this 
—  this  wickedness  that  I  suspect  you  of — I  would 
not  use  it  as  a  weapon  against  you,  —  to  force  you 
away,  to  expose  you  to  danger.  But  when  you 
manfully  accepted,  when  you  showed  that  you  had 
some  good  stuff  in  you,  I  thought  I  must  say 
it  —  must  give  you  a  warning,  I  will  call  it,  in 
place  of  an  accusation.  For  it  is  something 
that  touches  the  very  core  of  my  heart.  I  mean 
Phoebe,  my  darling,  my  pride.  This  morning  I 
saw  you — saw  something  that  staggered  me. 
Your  manner  was  gay  and  off-hand ;  but  it  did  not 
deceive  me.  The  girl  has  beauty  and  modesty ; 
but  she  is  a  woman,  and  has  a  heart.  You  were 
trifling  with  her.  What  you  said,  God  only 
knows.  I  don't  inquire  :  I  don't  wish  to  know.  I 
know  what  you  did,  and  that  you  made  the  quick 
color  come  in  her  cheeks,  made  her  eyes  drop 
in  shamefacedness,  continued  your  advances  or 


66  MAN  PROPOSES. 

innuendoes,  or  whatever  they  were,  until  she  rose 
in  wrath,  until  she  cast  upon  you  the  swift  glances 
of  anger,  of  mortified,  insulted,  indignant  virtue, 
and  rushed  away.  I  saw  it  all,  sir.  I  cannot  be 
mistaken.  I  fear  to  lose  her.  I  fear  you  have 
outraged  her  feelings  so  that  she  will  leave  us. 
And  this,  sir,  was  the  one  strong,  irresistible 
motive  I  had  to  separate  you  from  the  sweet  girl 
whose  tender  feelings  you  have  injured.  All  I 
have  said  about  my  affairs  is  true  to  the  letter ; 
but  if  I  had  millions  I  should  require  you  for  the 
present  to  live  elsewhere.  A  man  of  my  age  and 
standing,  sir,  does  not  permit  a  dependent  woman, 
either  of  high  or  low  degree,  to  be  trifled  with,  if 
he  knows  it." 

All  this  invective  came  like  the  torrent  that 
rolls  down  the  valley  when  a  dam  gives  way. 
The  stepson  could  do  no  less  than  quail  before  the 
angry  looks  and  vehement  reproaches.  He  tried 
to  excuse  himself,  insisted  that  his  conduct  was 
misunderstood,  and  that  he  meant  no  dishonor. 

"  I  take  you  at  your  word,"  said  Mr.  Prescott 
stoutly.  "  You  meant  no  dishonor.  Then  tell 
her  so,  in  the  words  and  with  the  deference  of  a 
gentleman.  You  are  going  away :  let  the  girl  and 
your  mother  and  myself  have  cause  to  think  kindly 
of  you.  You  are  to  be  a  soldier:  be  without  re- 
proach, as  without  fear.  God  knows  I  wouldn't 
be  rough  to  my  wife's  only  son.  Let  us  be  united 
in  feeling  at  home.  The  outside  world  has  trials 
enough  for  us  without  these." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  67 

"I  will  apologize  to  Phoebe,  and  with  all  due 
deference,"  said  Roderick  earnestly. 

"  Do  it,  my  dear  boy,  and  make  me  happy.  I 
must  leave  you :  I  have  an  appointment  with 
Gibbs." 

If  Roderick  was  not  the  darling  his  mother 
thought  him,  he  surely  was  not  quite  the  villain 
that  Phoebe  supposed.  As  his  step-father  had  inti- 
mated, his  useless  life  and  indefensible  conduct 
were  in  a  great  measure  owing  to  his  neglected 
education  and  to  the  absence  of  good  influences. 
He  had  associated  solely  with  young  men  who  had 
no  duties  to  perform,  and  no  responsibilities  to 
bear.  In  their  company  he  had  learned  the  flip- 
pant speech  and  supercilious  manners  that  mark 
fops  and  profligates.  The  dignity  of  labor,  the 
worth  of  character,  the  virtue  of  man  and  of 
woman,  the  duty  owing  to  society,  these  were 
topics  never  mentioned  in  his  set,  except  with 
gibes  and  laughter. 

So  Roderick  had  grown  up,  ignorant  of  every 
thing  useful,  familiar  only  with  elegance,  learned 
in  club  amusements  and  etiquette,  wearing  the 
cool  manners  of  old  reprobates  and  young  dandies, 
regarding  his  mother  as  a  person  to  be  flattered 
and  cozened,  and  his  step-father  as  one  to  be 
treated  with  just  enough  respect  to  secure  the 
regular  allowance.  As  for  Phoebe,  he  had  never  be- 
stowed upon  her  a  thought,  any  more  than  upon  a 
pretty  servant-maid,  not,  at  least,  until  her  dawn- 
ing beauty  had  given  some  emphasis  to  his  moth- 


68  MAN  PROPOSES. 

er's  prudent  suggestions.  Then  he  began  to 
notice  her,  to  admire  her  in  his  lawless  fashion, 
and  to  delight  in  bringing  blushes  to  her  cheeks. 

He  was  a  tolerably  worthless  person  as  he  stood ; 
but  he  was  not  without  some  good  impulses,  and 
it  would  have  been  possible  even  then  to  make 
him  an  honest  and  reputable  member  of  society. 
But  his  mother  was  occupied  with  her  visiting- 
list,  her  church,  her  oratory,  and  the  Plato  Club ; 
and  she  did  not  know  that  she  was  rearing  a  pol- 
ished heathen  in  her  own  house.  Roderick  be- 
haved well  at  table,  was  never  drunk,  —  in  her 
sight,  —  went  to  church  with  her  on  Sunday  morn- 
ings, and  performed  well  his  butterfly  parts  in  the 
refined  circles  which  made  her  heaven  upon  earth. 
That  was  all  she  knew. 

She  was  ignorant  as  yet  of  his  conduct  towards 
the  orphan  under  her  charge.  She  had  come  to 
admire  the  girl,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  had  set  her 
heart  upon  her  marriage  with  Roderick.  She 
supposed  that  the  young  Sultan  had  only  to  throw 
his  handkerchief ;  for,  of  course,  no  girl  in  any  sta- 
tion would  think  of  refusing  an  offer  from  a  young 
man  with  such  personal  and  social  advantages. 

Now  Roderick  must  let  his  mother  know  that  he 
had  not  only  got  a  deserved  repulse,  but  had  for- 
feited the  girl's  respect,  and,  moreover,  that  he  was 
going  to  join  a  regiment  for  active  service.  It 
was  a  sad  message  he  had  to  carry.  The  situation 
sobered  him,  and  set  him  to  thinking  of  various 
practical  matters  in  new  lights. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  69 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ROBERT  walked  swiftly  at  first,  but  soon  short- 
ened his  steps,  and,  with  bowed  head  and  bent 
shoulders,  slowly  traversed  the  malls,  making  a 
long  circuit,  and  returning  without  premeditation 
to  the  place  where  he  had  parted  with  Phoebe. 
The  uprooted  tree  floating  in  the  current  of  a 
river,  when  it  reaches  the  broad  and  deep  eddy 
where  the  black  water  lazily  circles,  yields  to  the 
force,  and  all  day  describes  its  planetary  orbit, 
rushing  down  on  one  curve  to  be  swept  slowly 
back  on  the  opposite  one.  Robert's  mind  was 
such  a  whirlpool,  deep  and  uncontrollable ;  and 
upon  it  floated  the  flower  of  his  love  plucked  up 
by  the  roots.  Still  swept  the  black  eddy ;  and, 
though  the  contemplation  was  maddening,  he 
could  not  for  one  moment  free  himself.  It  was 
as  if  a  requiem  were  chanted  in  the  recesses  of  his 
brain,  —  mournful  chords  that  never  would  modu- 
late, melodies  like  the  wail  of  a  mother  over 
her  first-born,  and  all  blended  in  a  never-ending, 
always-beginning  movement. 

While  in  this  mood,  he  was  unconscious  of  the 
lapse  of  time,  of  his  own  surroundings,  of  bodily 
wants,  and  of  the  presence  of  mankind;  but  he 


70  MAN  PROPOSES. 

was  made  aware  of  companionship  in  his  walk. 
Roderick,  fresh  from  the  meeting  with  his  step- 
father, and  at  once  sobered  and  softened  in  feel- 
ing and  manner,  came  up  with  Robert,  and 
touched  him  lightly  on  his  arm.  Robert's  eyes 
while  in  repose  had  something  of  the  vague  and 
wonderful  depth  which  elderly  people  remember 
in  the  look  of  Webster.  They  were  contem- 
plative, humorous,  or  tender,  by  turns ;  but  in 
moments  of  excitement  they  blazed  with  an  intol- 
erably fierce  lustre.  For  one  instant  the  habitual 
deep  and  melancholy  expression  was'  turned  upon 
the  new-comer ;  then,  as  the  parting  came  to  mind, 
and  the  terrible  hints  given  by  Phoebe  were  re- 
called, and  it  became  evident  that  this  was  the 
sleek  beast  of  prey  that  she  was  fleeing  from,  the 
fierceness  shone  like  an  electric  flash. 

"  Is  it  YOU  ? "  he  said.  They  were  simple 
words ;  but  Roderick  probably  never  forgot  them, 
nor  the  look  and  the  tone  that  accompanied  them. 

The  glance  was  like  flashing  a  sudden  light 
upon  a  burglar,  and  the  tone  was  contempt,  wrath, 
and  defiance.  It  was  certainly  more  like  the 
spirit  of  the  pugnacious  Peter  than  of  the  gentle 
John.  There  was  still  a  good  deal  of  the  "old 
Adam  "  in  this  young  Christian. 

Practised  man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  Roderick 
was  surprised,  stunned ;  but  policy  and  inclination 
combined  to  make  him  patient.  "  Why,  Robert,  — 
Mr.  Prescott,  I  should  say,  —  you  go  off  like  a 
torpedo !  We  have  been  friends.  Can't  we  re- 
main so  ?  " 


MAN  PROPOSES.  71 

"  A  torpedo  isn't  intended  to  hoist  its  friends," 
said  Robert  coldly  and  deliberately. 

"  Then  let  us  see  why  we  are  not  friends." 

"  I  cannot  be  a  friend  to  one  who  would  sully 
maiden  innocence." 

Roderick  felt  the  thrust,  and  began  wondering 
how  his  rough  and  luckless  wooing  had  been 
noised  abroad.  Not  by  his  step-father,  certainly 
not;  his  mother  did  not  know  it:  then  by  the 
girl  herself!  The  process  of  reasoning  was  short; 
or  rather  conscience,  like  lightning,  ran  over  the 
lines  to  the  inevitable  conclusion. 

Roderick  had  the  power  of  thinking  on  his 
legs ;  or  rather  his  natural  sprightliness  played  in 
the  inner  chamber  of  thought  a  kind  of  running 
accompaniment  to  his  speech.  Even  as  he  began 
his  excuses  and  deprecatory  exclamations,  his  mind 
was  darting  back,  and  making  wonderfully  acute 
deductions  as  to  the  meaning  and  implication  of 
the  confidence  between  a  rather  sedate  young 
preacher,  and  a  tender,  shy,  and  thoroughly  mod- 
est girl,  such  as  he  knew  Phoebe  to  be ;  a  confi- 
dence, too,  that  admitted  the  possible  mention  or 
the  hint  of  an  indelicacy.  The  intimacy  was  cer- 
tain ;  and  the  fact  was  not  calculated  to  inspire 
courage,  or  fluency  of  speech. 

When  Robert  launched  his  arrow,  he  had  paused, 
and  was  leaning  against  a  tree,  throwing  out  mean- 
while the  light  of  his  steel-blue  eyes.  Roderick 
was  determined  not  to  be  angry,  but  to  stand  on 
guard,  to  parry,  and  at  last  to  palliate  and  belittle 


72  MAN  PROPOSES. 

the  offence.  So,  without  wincing,  he  exclaimed, 
"  As  a  general  principle  nothing  could  be  more 
correct.  Your  friend  could  not  sully  maiden  inno- 
cence." 

"But  haven't  you  attempted  it? " 

There  was  a  dangerous  directness  about  this 
man. 

"  By  no  means.  I,  a  destroyer  of  innocence  ! 
On  my  soul,  no !  Pardon  me,  you  are  a  clergy- 
man, or  soon  to  be ;  and  I  am  not,  and  must 
speak  in  the  way  of  the  world  that  is  not  over 
nice.  I  don't  pretend  to  have  been  a  Joseph." 

"  I  believe  you  have  not  been." 

"  But  don't  wear  that  awful  frown.  You  look 
like  a  prosecuting  attorney  harpooning  a  lying 
witness.  I  am  not  the  criminal  you  think." 

"Have  you  not  driven  a  friendless  girl  from 
your  father's  house  and  your  mother's  protection 
by  your  shameful  treatment  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  Of  course  you  mean 
Pho3be,  —  a  young  lady  that  I  am  very  fond  of, 
one  that  my  mother  loves  as  her  own  daughter. 
And,  with  the  feelings  I  entertain,  I  shouldn't  be 
very  likely  to  attack  rudely  the  lady  I  hope  to 
marry." 

During  the  last  sentence,  which  was  uttered 
more  slowly,  the  "  harpooning "  was  done  by  the 
other  party.  Roderick  watched  the  effect  of  his 
stroke,  and  was  pleased  to  see  that  it  touched  a 
vital  point  in  his  adversary.  All  the  poetry, 
purity,  affection,  and  pride  in  Robert's  strong 


MAN  PROPOSES.  73 

nature,  rallied  for  the  defence  of  Phoebe  against 
this  monstrous  claim.  Though  lost  to  him  for- 
ever, the  thought  of  her  in  the  arms  of  this  rival 
was  worse  than  the  doom  of  Jephthah's  daughter. 

"  You"  exclaimed  he  in  a  sudden  fury,  —  '•'•you 
to  win  the  heart  of  an  angel  like  her !  She  is  a 
lily ;  and  your  hands  are  foul.  She  has  a  soul ; 
and  your  heart  is  a  void.  If  all  the  world  con- 
spired with  you,  God  himself  would  interfere  to 
prevent  the  unnatural  union." 

"  You  preachers  have  a  comfortable  way  of  keep- 
ing God  as  a  kind  of  reserve-corps.  But  you  will 
have  to  fight  your  own  battles  without  divine  aid. 
You  know  you  can't  win  the  girl,  and  I  assure  you 
I  will.  We  can  at  least  understand  each  other. 
Let  me  add  that  a  pint  of  wine  at  a  late  breakfast 
sometimes  makes  the  blood  a  little  unruly:  that 
is  all.  I  was  a  little  hasty.  I  don't  mind  saying 
it,  since  you  know  so  much.  But  a  woman  easily 
forgives  an  impulse  which  her  beauty  provokes. 
Don't  be  uneasy  about  me.  I  will  make  it  all 
smooth.  I  should  like  to  be  friendly  with  you. 
I  have  not  known  you  as  a  rival.  I  did  not  know 
that  you  felt  called  upon  to  defend  the  lady's 
honor." 

Give  Roderick  time  enough,  and  he  would  talk 
down  even  Satan.  He  had  flanked  the  adversary, 
but  now  feared  he  had  pushed  his  triumph  too  far, 
and  he  hastened  to  conciliate. 

Robert  was  drawing  deep  breaths,  and  was  con- 
templating the  easy  escape  of  his  wily  foe.  His 


74  MAN  PROPOSES. 

strong  convictions  were  unchanged.  He  did  not 
regard  what  Roderick  said,  and  he  did  not  care 
much  for  what  he  did ;  but  his  whole  soul  ab- 
horred what  he  believed  Roderick  was. 

"  You  make  a  very  plausible  statement.  You 
are  not  deficient  in  tact  and  cunning.  I  have  my 
opinion,  nevertheless.  As  you  say,  I  may  not  win 
the  girl;  but  I  pray  devoutly  she  may  be  deliv- 
ered from  you." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  me.  I  don't 
need  your  prayers,  nor  does  Phoebe.  I  shall 
shake  off  the  habits  of  a  man  about  town  ;  and 
when  I  come  back  all  new,  with  a  star  or  two  on 
my  shoulders,  we  shall  see.  Girls  are  not  impla- 
cable. Let  us  see,  is  it  to  India  you  are  going  ?  " 

Robert  would  have  been  puzzled  to  explain  his 
sensations.  Physical  violence  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Christian  meekness  was  quite  out  of 
place.  He  simply  drew  himself  up,  and  replied, 
"  My  intentions,  I  believe,  do  not  concern  you. 
I  shall  go  where  duty  leads  me." 

"  Quite  sorry  to  leave  you  under  such  a  cloud  ; 
but  it  would  be  cowardly  not  to  let  you  know  my 
aspirations.  I  could  sneak  in,  you  know,  and  cap- 
ture the  girl  without  fair  warning,  especially  as 
you  had  shown  your  hand.  I  bear  no  malice. 
You'll  think  better  of  me  when  you  know  me. 
And  so  you  won't  shake  hands  ?  Well,  I  for  one 
won't  be  uncivil.  You  have  my  best  wishes  —  in 
every  matter  except  one." 

Roderick  walked   off  with  almost   all   his   old 


MAN  PROPOSES.  75 

gayety,  leaving  his  rival  fixed  to  the  spot  where  he 
stood,  and  full  of  the  most  maddening  reflections. 
Robert  had  yet  to  learn  that  the  fine-spun  theo- 
ries of  poets  and  ethical  philosophers  with  regard 
to  the  triumph  of  truth  and  sincerity  are  delusive. 
The  habitually  false,  who  have  the  art  of  making 
the  worse  appear  the  better,  get  along  quite  as 
well  in  the  world.  As  the  high  souls  are  uncom- 
mon, and  as  people  in  general  know  nothing  of 
the  absolute  purity  of  such  characters,  their  simple 
and  direct  speech  is  regarded  as  an  affectation. 
Men  do  not  credit  the  existence  in  others  of  a 
higher  standard  of  truth  than  their  own.  There- 
fore the  plausible  insincerities  of  Roderick  were  as 
likely  to  gain  credence  as  the  unswerving  nobility 
of  Robert.  The  rigid  virtue  that  could  not  accom- 
modate itself  to  the  sinuosities  of  Mr.  Gibbs,  and 
give  a  fair  outside  to  lies  in  trade,  was  only 
mocked  at.  Even  Mr.  Prescott  the  senior  proba- 
bly considered  his  nephew  squeamish.  But  no 
one,  probably,  not  even  the  sorely-tried  Phoebe, 
could  understand  the  grand  self-truth  which 
would  not  allow  of  any  wavering  from  duty  to 
gain  the  prize  more  coveted  than  any  object  this 
side  of  heaven. 

From  the  hated  world  of  business  as  repre- 
sented by  Gibbs,  from  the  false  social  world  of 
which  Roderick  was  a  type,  and  from  the  unap- 
preciative  soul  of  the  girl  he  had  chosen,  Robert 
turned  away  to  commune  with  himself  and  his 
Creator. 


76  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Roderick  went  to  his  usual  haunts,  —  to  the 
Minerva  Library  to  see  what  new  novel  had  come 
out,  to  the  hotel  where  out-of-town  friends  called, 
and,  lastly,  to  his  luxurious  club,  the  Arlington. 
There,  among  kindred  spirits,  the  affairs  of  the 
day  were  talked  over,  and  the  military  news  was 
discussed.  It  is  but  just  to  say  that  he  seemed 
to  have  a  more  earnest  tone,  a  sounder  fibre  in 
him,  and  a  sobriety  of  judgment  that  was  vastly 
to  his  credit.  He  met  returned  officers,  some 
wounded,  some  invalids,  and  the  incidents  of  the 
service  were  discussed.  It  was  soon  known  that 
he  was  going  to  have  a  commission  in  a  regiment, 
—  a  regiment  of  blacks ;  and  the  ordinary  banter 
was  hushed.  He  was  becoming  a  hero.  He  saw 
it  in  the  eyes  of  his  friends,  and  the  conscious- 
ness re-acted  upon  himself.  He  was  steadied  by 
thought  of  the  weight  he  was  to  carry.  But  still 
his  thoughts  often  returned  to  the  fair  girl;  and  he 
wondered,  if,  after  all,  he  would  carry  out  his 
plans. 

"  Who  knows  a  woman's  wild  caprice?  " 


MAN  PROPOSES.  77 


CHAPTER   VII. 

IF  Mr.  Gibbs  was  not  in  a  good  humor  when 
he  went  out,  he  was  still  more  grim  on  his  return ; 
for,  on  going  to  his  desk  in  his  private  room,  he 
picked  up  a  letter,  and  read  the  resignation  of 
Robert  Prescott.  "  Humph  !  "  said  he,  running 
over  the  lines,  "resume  my  theological  —  hm  — 
business  wearisome ;  will  settle  with  my  uncle ; 
expect  to  go  abroad  —  hm  —  canting  fool!"  He 
tore  the  letter  to  shreds,  and  put  them  in  the 
waste-basket. 

It  was  not  the  gracious  air  he  wore  when  he 
entered  his  "  swell "  church,  or  when,  arm  in  arm 
with  a  man  who  had  a  grandfather,  he  walked 
through  the  fashionable  streets.  He  mused :  "  So 
young  Prescott  has  gone.  Well,  he  had  brains, 
and  wrote  for  us  in  a  style  that  did  credit  to  the 
house ;  but  too  honest,  too  squeamish.  Letters 
needn't  be  honest :  they  should  only  seem  so. 
Prescott  wouldn't  swerve  a  hair.  Troublesome. 
Wanted  always  to  tell  the  whole.  Bad  to  show 
your  whole  hand.  One  card  at  a  time ;  let  your 
adversary  play  to  that.  Time  enough  then  to  play 
another.  But  I  wonder  who  will  take  his  place  ? 
Shall  I  try  Scraggs  ?  No  :  he  owes  me  on  a  mort- 


78  MAN  PROPOSES. 

gage ;  mustn't  let  him  get  too  near ;  couldn't 
squeeze  him  if  there  was  any  intimacy.  Dobson  ? 
No :  he  is  too  sharp.  If  he  got  any  points  in  the 
business,  he'd  use  'em  for  himself.  Borie  ?  No : 
he  goes  out  for  a  cocktail  at  twelve.  Cocktails 
are  for  after-hours,  and  at  the  club.  Amory? 
Yes,  Amory:  why  not?  He  is  vain;  but  he 
writes  well.  Honest  ?  yes ;  and  not  so  sharp  as 
to  make  his  honesty  a  thorn." 

Mr.  Gibbs  went  out  towards  Amory's  desk,  and 
motioned  to  him.  Amory  shivered.  The  truth 
was,  he  was  ambitious  to  shine  as  an  author ;  and, 
though  he  had  never  neglected  his  duties  as  clerk, 
his  desk  contained  no  end  of  sonnets,  epigrams, 
and  couplets  in  various  stages  of  evolution, 
besides  (if  the  truth  must  be  told)  a  variety  of 
studies  for  advertisements,  —  a  species  of  composi- 
tion which  the  prudent  youth  found  more  profita- 
ble than  writing  verses  gratis  for  the  newspapers. 
He  feared  that  his  secret  delights  had  been 
observed,  and  that  he  was  now  about  to  get  a 
raking.  Moreover,  he  had  been  absent  two  after- 
noons a  week,  for  some  time,  on  his  own  business, 
without  formal  leave,  although  he  believed  that 
Mr.  Prescott  had  either  sanctioned  his  absence, 
or  condoned  the  offence.  Amory  felt  much  like 
a  schoolboy  summoned  to  the  master's  private 
room ;  but  Mr.  Gibbs  had  been  considering  his 
policy,  and  was  almost  cheerful  in  his  greeting. 
He  even  motioned  to  his  clerk  to  sit,  —  an  un- 
precedented condescension.  Full  of  wonder, 
Amory  seated  himself,  and  waited. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  79 

"  Well,"  said  the  great  man,  "  strange  things 
are  happeiiin'.  Robert  Prescott's  gone." 

The  clerk  nodded. 

"  Goin'  to  preach  ;  goin'  to  the  heathen  —  hm. 
Boston's  good  'nough  place  for  me." 

No  reply  appeared  to  be  called  for  to  such  a  self- 
evident  statement. 

"  I  sh'd  like  to  travel,  though.  Went  to  Yerrop 
once,  about  twenty  years  ago.  Was  hauled  about 
to  see  ol  buildin's,  —  all  out  of  repair,  —  rickety 
from  top-ston  to  under-pinnin'.  If  I  go  again,  I 
sh'd  try  to  enjoy  myself,  —  go  to  the  operer,  hear 
music,  and  see  the  people.  The  Bible  says  the 
proper  study  of  mankind  is  men  and  Avomen. 
They  ain't  heathen,  though,  —  them  broonets  in 
the  Hague  and  Brussels !  Silky  hair,  like  corn- 
silk,  skins  that  show  the  blood  clear  through, 
an'  pale  blue  eyes,  —  them  s  my  colors.  The 
women  in  Italy  with  rhubarb  complexions,  and 
eyes  like  great  blackberries,  make  you  think  of 
the  pictures  by  Michel  Anglosaxon.  Too  much 
development.  Didn't  like  'em,  —  pictures  nor 
women." 

As  Mr.  Gibbs  was  never  to  be  corrected,  not 
even  when  he  made  2  -f-  2  =  5,  Amory  did  not 
venture-  to  comment  upon  the  eccentric  views  of 
nature  and  art.  The  merchant  appeared  to  have 
some  idea  of  establishing  a  basis  of  sympathy 
between  himself  and  a  man  of  known  taste  for 
literature  and  the  arts. 

"  You  don't  paint,  I  s'pose  ?  "  Amory  shook  his 
head  smilingly. 


80  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  If  I  had  time,  /  sh'd  like  to  patronize  music. 
Some  people  run  wild  about  paintin'.  Talk  about 
a  thousan'  dollars  a  square  yard !  Wy,  there 
never  was  any  such  vallue  in  any  square  yard  of 
paintin'.  You  can  sometimes  git  good  picters  on 
the  sidewalk  in  State  Street  for  ten  dollars,  all 
framed,  with  clouds  and  woodses  an'  water  an' 
boats,  — jest  as  good,  jest  as  good.  I  take  more  to 
music.  I  s'bscribed  for  the  big  orgen"  (here  he  felt 
of  his  pocket  sympathetically).  "  Makin'  tunes 
is  like  makin'  somethin'  out  o'  nothin'.  Try  to 
whistle,  and  you  get  into  somebody's  tune :  if  you 
get  outside  on't,  you're  nowhere,  — lost.  You  can 
say  somethin'  new;  but,  when  you  whistle,  it's 
somethin'  old.  It's  a  smart  feller  that  picks  up 
the  notes  layin'  round,  and  puts  'em  together  so 
as't  they  stick." 

Mr.  Gibbs  had  been  watching  his  clerk ;  but  the 
face  before  him  was  as  if  it  had  been  made  of 
china.  He  had  not  struck  the  young  man's  fancy 
yet. 

"  I've  a  mind  to  bring  up  one  of  my  boys  to  be 
a  Be-thuven.  Why  not  ?  Don't  you  think  that's 
an  idea?  I  might  have  him  write  histry,  like 
Motley ;  or  potry,  like  Longfeller :  but  it's  more 
of  a  thing  to  be  a  Be-thuven,  —  more  grand  like, 
more  kinder  distangay.  Do  you  ever  compose 
any  music  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Thought  I'd  seen  things  in  rows  like  gridirons, 
on  your  desk,  —  long  gridirons  with  peeps  on  'em  ? 


MAN  PROPOSES.  81 

Oh,  ah!  somethin'  else?  Potry,  I've  no  doubt. 
I  know  you  have  somethin'  here  (tapping  his  cor- 
rugated brow  with  a  pudgy  finger). 

Amory  blushed,  and  replied  rather  nervously 
that  he  had  written  a  few  verses  now  and  then,  — 
out  of  office-hours. 

"  You  study  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  little  natural  science." 

'•  Well,  I'm  glad  it's  nateral  science.  There's  a 
lot  that's  unnateral.  Histry,  too  ?  " 

Amory  nodded,  curious  to  know  how  this  ex- 
cursion through  the  arts  and  sciences  was  to  end. 

"I've  been  asked  to  take  hold  of  a  new  bank 
(I'm  drector  in  three  now)  ;  and  they  said  —  some 
of  em  —  they  was  goin'  to  call  it  the  Sam  Adams 

Bank.  Now,  I  want  know  who  in was  Sam 

Adams?  Any  relation  to  young  Sam  on  Battry- 
march  Street,  or  to  them  stuck-up  Adamses  down 
to  Quiney? 

Amory  modestly  gave  the  desired  information, 
and  added  that  it  was  proposed  to  set  up  a  statue 
of  the  orator. 

"  Oho  !  A  statoo !  Why,  that'll  give  the  bank  a 
good  send-off.  Histry  doos  come  in  now  an'  then. 
And  you  can  write  somethin'  sensible  about  com- 
merce an'  the  like  ? 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Amory. 

"  Hm.  And  so  you  can  rattle  off  on  paper  in 
good  style  ?  Put  in  long  words  that1  sound  well, 
and  don't  mean  any  thin'  ?  Let  a  feller  down  easy 
that  we  wouldn't  wanter  trust?  Keep  people 


82  MAN  PROPOSES. 

from  gettin'  too  familiar  and  over-drawin'  ?  Oh, 
I  know.  Style's  every  thin'.  Manners  and  cere- 
munny  keeps  vulgar  folks  at  a  distance :  so  doos 
style  in  writin',  —  somethin'  in  that.  Yes,  writin' 
has  its  place.  Couldn't  do  without  it.  Though 
genrally,  when  a  feller  writes  too  Avell,  he  can't  do 
nothin'  else  ez  well.  It  hurt  Choate,  this  beiii' 
litry,  and  it  hurts  Hillard.  The  quiet  ones  that 
don't  spread  themselves  on  paper  's  too  much  for 
the  litry  fellers.  No  offence  to  you.  We  shall 
run  the  machine  "  (tapping  once  more  the  ugly 
brow),  "and  I  think  yourn's  the  hand  for  the  pen. 
What  d'ye  say?" 

The  end  of  this  oration  was  signalized  by  a 
keen  look  from  the  twinkling  eyes,  and  a  forward 
movement  of  the  bulky  body ;  while  two  stout 
hands  came  down  as  props  upon  the  short  chunks 
of  knees.  The  sloping  line  of  the  back,  the  pose 
of  the  head,  and  the  expression  of  face,  reminded 
Amory  of  a  toad.  But  the  question  was  none  the 
less  embarrassing  for  its  comic  aspect.  The  first 
impulse  was  to  refuse  bluntly.  Mr.  Gibbs  repre- 
sented nearly  every  thing  that  he  detested.  Even 
at  a  distance  the  decent  hypocrisy  due  to  an 
employer  was  difficult :  to  keep  up  the  show  of 
respect  at  close  quarters  would  be  a  hard  task. 
Mr.  Gibbs  did  not  merely  inspire  silent  aversion, 
but  active  dislike  to  the  very  border  of  hate- 
Amory  felt  almost  like  fighting  when  the  head  of 
the  enemy  was  thrust  toAvards  him. 

Mr.  Gibbs,  who   had   expected  an  instant  and 


MAN  PROPOSES.  83 

joyful  acceptance  of  the  offer,  was  surprised  to 
find  Amoiy  hesitating.  To  make  the  declination 
less  offensive,  the  young  man  expressed  doubt  of 
his  ability,  especially  as  the  successor  of  so  able  a 
correspondent  as  Mr.  Prescott's  nephew,  the  divin- 
ity student.  Mr.  Gibbs  blurted  out  "  Pshaw !  " 
and  "  Nonsense  !  "  But,  the  longer  he  talked,  the 
stronger  the  aversion  grew  in  the  soul  of  the  hon- 
est little  man ;  and  at  last,  being  pushed  to  the 
wall  to  answer  yes  or  no,  he  said  no  civilly  but 
decidedly. 

Mr.  Gibbs  was  naturally  angry,  and  started  up. 
He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  being  opposed.  He 
drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  of  five  feet  six, 
pursed  out  his  cheeks,  and,  while  the  color  deep- 
ened in  his  coppery  nose,  he  exclaimed,  "  Very  well, 
sir.  You  leave  this  house.  The  cashier  will  set- 
tle with  you.  Go  !  " 

He  opened  the  door,  and  pointed  outward  with 
a  short  stout  finger. 

Amory  was  quiet  and  firm.  "I  believe,"  said 
he,  "  I  am  entitled  to  a  notice,  and  am  not  to  be 
put  out  of  doors  in  this  way.  I  was  hired  by  Mr. 
Prescott,  and  I  don't  believe  he  would  see  me  dis- 
missed without  cause." 

"  I  will  let  you  know  that  /  am  master.  That 
for  Mr.  Prescott.  Get  out,  you  beggar  !  " 

The  next  instant  Mr.  Gibbs  was  lying  on  the 
floor  with  a  contusion  on  the  back  of  his  head, 
caused  by  the  edge  of  the  desk  which  he  struck 
in  falling.  Amory  did  not  follow  up  his  advan- 


84  MAN  PROPOSES. 

tage,  but  stood  on  the  defensive,  with  his  fists 
clinched,  glaring  in  every  way  at  the  clerks  who 
had  rushed  towards  the  scene.  There  was  pain  or 
surprise  on  the  faces  of  some,  but  suppressed 
merriment  was  evident  in  more.  The  elder  men 
got  Mr.  Gibbs  up,  looked  at  his  head  to  see  the 
extent  of  the  injury,  and  placed  him  in  a  chair. 
His  rage  and  astonishment,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
fall,  had  literally  made  him  speechless. 

Meanwhile  Amory  held  his  ground,  disdaining  a 
word  of  explanation,  until  presently  Mr.  Prescott 
appeared.  The  sharp  look  of  inquiry  which  the 
senior  cast  upon  the  group  was  answered  at  once 
by  Amory. 

"  He  had  just  discharged  me  for  no  cause,  and 
without  notice.  I  thought  that  was  enough ;  but 
he  then  called  me  a  beggar,  and  I  knocked  him 
over." 

"  Very  wrong,"  said  Mr.  Prescott,  but  without 
any  great  emphasis. 

Mr.  Gibbs  had  recovered  enough  to  gurgle  out, 
"  Call  a  policeman ! " 

"  No  need  of  that,"  said  Amory.  "  I'll  appear 
at  court,  and  pay  my  fine  —  with  pleasure." 

"  Arrest  him  !  "  said  Mr.  Gibbs  fiercely. 

"  What  is  all  this  about  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Prescott. 

"  I  dismissed  him,"  said  Mr.  Gibbs. 

"  And  for  what  cause  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Prescott, 
nettled  at  the  assumption. 

"  Because  I  chose,"  replied  the  junior,  straight- 
ening up,  and  settling  his  chin  in  his  collar. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  85 

"Mr.  Gibbs,"  said  the  senior  in  a  deprecatory 
tone,  "  any  thing  in  reason,  you  know.  And,  after 
what  has  happened,  of  course  he  must  go.  But 
you  will  hardly  desire  —  if  you  think  of  it  —  to 
give  such  an  answer  to  me.  Amory  was  entitled 
to  a  fair  notice  —  until  his  act  of  violence  ;  and  I 
am  entitled,  as  the  head  of  this  house,  to  a  respect- 
ful answer." 

The  face  of  the  junior,  which  had  been  paler 
than  usual  on  account  of  the  shock,  seemed  to 
blaze,  all  at  once,  with  recollections  of  limitless 
burgundy  and  brandy.  The  rigid  wrinkles  about 
his  eyes  encroached  upon '  the  limited  surface 
above  his  stubbly  beard.  Perpendicular  furrows 
shot  up  between  his  eyebrows.  His  temper  was  un- 
controllable ;  and,  with  a  husky  voice,  he  shouted, 

"  The  head  of  the  house  be  d d !     This  firm  is 

dissolved.     Time  will  show  who  is  master." 

"This  is  extraordinary  language,"  said  Mr. 
Prescott;  "but  I  am  not  altogether  unprepared 
for  it.  —  Remain,  Mr.  Amory,  a  moment.  An  in- 
terview that  begins  with  a  storm  like  this  should 
have  a  witness.  —  So,  Mr.  Gibbs,  the  mask  is 
thrown  off.  You  announce  the  dissolution  of  the 
partnership.  It  is  a  little  sudden,  but,  perhaps, 
just  as  well.  Notice  to  the  public,  of  course. 
Usually  the  notice  gives  the  new  arrangements 
also." 

"  The  new  arrangement  will  be  '  Gibbs  &  Co.,' ' 
said  the  junior,  with  protruding  lips. 

"  Possibly,"  said  Mr.  Prescott.     "  But  there  are 


86  MAN  PROPOSES. 

a  few  preliminaries,  such  as  an  inventory,  a  tran- 
script from  the  books  of  the  assets  and  liabilities 
of  the  firm." 

"  All  prepared,  Mr.  Prescott.  The  whole  thing 
is  ready  in  my  desk,  —  inventory  to  date,  schedule 
of  bills  payable  and  receivable,  private  account  of 
Mr.  Prescott,  ditto  of  Mr.  Gibbs." 

"  A  little  time  may  be  necessary  to  verify  state- 
ments ^covering  so  many  items." 

"  As  much  time  as  you  want.  But  the  dissolu- 
tion is  a  fact.  Your  rights  are  what  they  are. 
Figures  will  show.  —  Confound  that  desk !  How 
my  head  aches !  " 

"  What  do  you  propose  ?  " 

"  I  might  say  that  to  you.     Buy,  or  sell." 

"  When  would  you  expect  the  payment  to  be 
made,  if  I  conclude  to  buy  ?  " 

"I  won't  be  unreasonable.  It's  a  large  sum. 
It  would  take  some  time,  —  say  a  week." 

"  Monstrous !  "  said  Mr.  Prescott.  "  You  know 
the  richest  man  on  the  street  would  find  it  a  task 
to  produce  so  much  money,  —  money,  I  say.  Peo- 
ple talk  of  such  sums,  but  they  don't  often  see 
them.  There  hasn't  been  such  a  sum  paid  over  in 
settling  a  firm's  accounts,  in  money,  —  mind,  I  say 
in  money,  —  for  years." 

"  Well,  make  it  a  month." 

"Call  it  three." 

"  It's  all  the  same.     Let  it  be  three." 

"  If  the  old  Corinthian  had  not  given  out,"  said 
Amory  aside,  speaking  now  for  the  first  time. 


MAN  PROPOSES  87 

Mr.  Gibbs  heard  the  remark,  and,  sore  as  he 
was,  howled  with  derision,  "  The  Corinthian  I  a 
humbug  copper-mine !  Why,  I've  got  certificates 
enough  to  line  a  trunk.  By  George,  I'll  sell  'em 
to  my  barber  for  shaving-paper !  " 

Mr.  Prescott  winced.  It  was  he  who  had  per- 
suaded Gibbs  to  invest  with  him  in  that  disastrous 
venture.  The  shares  that  Mr.  Prescott  had 
"placed"  with  his  friends  had  left  marks  every- 
where like  blisters.  Some  actually  thought  he  had 
"unloaded,"  had  knowingly  sold  the  stock  after 
its  worthlessness  had  been  proved, — just  as  the 
promoters  of  the  Pewter  File  Company  did,  swin- 
dling credulous  friends  out  of  their  hard  earnings. 
This  was  a  very  sore  subject  with  Mr.  Prescott ; 
for  he  was  a  man  of  honor,  and  not  a  man  to 
"unload."  He  had  fully  believed  in  the  Corin- 
thian, and  had  not  only  put  his  money  in  it,  but 
had  persuaded  his  friends  to  do  so.  But  it  had 
given  out,  as  Amory  said.  There  was  not  an 
ounce  of  copper  in  the  hill  that  would  not  cost 
the  price  of  two  ounces  to  get  it  to  market.  It 
was  a  hopeless  wreck.  The  certificates  were 
pretty  specimens  of  engraving;  and  people  kept 
them,  as  they  kept  Kossuth's  Hungarian  bonds, 
mementoes  of  a  pleasing  delusion.  No  wonder 
Gibbs  sneered. 

"  Gather  'em,"  said  he.  "  You  are  out  of  busi- 
ness, Amory.  Gather  the  bonds.  Get  'em  all 
together ;  and  perhaps  the  paper  will  help  pay 
your  fine,  you  puppy  !  " 


88  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Mr.  Prescott  was  going  to  speak ;  but  Amory 
respectfully  waved  him  back,  saying,  "  I  am  not 
quite  without  resources.  I  can  pay  the  fine,  and 
I  can  earn  a  living.  I  should  be  better  pleased  to 
serve  Mr.  Prescott  without  a  salary  than  his  part- 
ner with.  I  am  glad  to  take  my  leave.  Good- 
by,  Mr.  Prescott.  May  we  meet  under  happier 
auspices ! " 

Mr.  Prescott  was  so  much  absorbed  in  this  sud- 
den turn  of  affairs,  that  he  scarcely  listened  to 
Amory,  and  scarcely  returned  his  farewell. 

"The  mill  accounts,"  said  he  to  Gibbs,  "are 
they  at  your  beck  and  call?  May  not  the  direct- 
ors of  the  Pequot,  or  the  Miantonomo  and  other 
mills,  possibly  have  something  to  say  ?  " 

"  Let  him  carry  the  accounts  that  can  get  "em," 
said  Mr.  Gibbs  doggedly,  rising,  and  sopping  his 
wet  handkerchief  upon  his  head. 

"  Amen !  "  replied  Mr.  Prescott.  "  You  are 
playing  for  a  large  stake.  You  may  win,  because 
I  may  be  unable  to  raise  such  a  sum  of  money. 
But  I  don't  believe  you  will  get  the  mill  accounts; 
and,  if  you  don't,  you  will  have  lost  the  game. 
You  will  Have  shown  your  bad  temper,  your 
ingratitude,  your  baseness,  in  vain." 

The  attitude  of  Mr.  Prescott  as  he  uttered  these 
words  was  neither  aggressive  nor  petulant.  The 
words  came  from  his  lips  in  tones  that  were  free 
from  the  exaggeration  of  wrath.  Mr.  Gibbs  was 
full  of  rage,  almost  ready  for  violence ;  but  as  he 
cautiously  looked  about,  standing  within  sight  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  89 

the  clerks,  lie  saw  that  something  of  the  conversa- 
tion had  been  overheard,  and  that  he  was  closely 
watched ;  and  he  knew  that  an  assault  upon  the 
"  head  of  the  house"  might  lead  to  very  unpleas- 
ant consequences. 

So  the  two  men  separated,  —  the  one  to  rejoice 
over  the  success  of  his  first  move,  the  other  to 
meditate  on  the  chances  left  him.  The  younger 
man  affected  no  sense  of  delicacy,  no  sentiment  of 
honor,  no  feeling  of  gratitude.  He  had  neither. 
He  was  a  rich  man,  and  he  had  become  rich  in  the 
usual  way ;  namely,  by  always  taking  the  biggest 
slice  in  the  dish.  A  fme-souled  man  with  regard 
for  his  fellows,  one  who  waits  that  others  may 
have  their  share  from  the  bountiful  platter  that 
Nature  sets  out,  will  be  apt  to  see  the  dish  swept 
clean  before  his  turn  comes. 

And  the  elder  was  too  proud,  too  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  way  of  the  world,  to  make  a 
single  reference  to  the  past.  It  was  of  no  conse- 
quence that  he  had  given  Gibbs  the  opportunity 
to  rise,  or  that  Gibbs  owed  every  thing  to  him  :  the 
only  question  was,  what  Gibbs's  interest  was  now. 
In  dealing  with  such  a  "  business  man"  in  the 
present  year  of  our  Lord,  if  one  has  the  advan- 
tage over  him,  it  isn't  advisable  to  throw  it  away. 


90  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IT  was  nearly  time  for  dinner,  and  Mrs.  Prescott 
was  weary  of  looking  at  the  clock.  After  Phcebe 
went  to  take  her  singing-lesson,  a  foreign  bishop, 
one  of  the  celebrities  of  the  time,  called,  but 
only  long  enough  to  exhibit  some  relics  which  he 
designed  to  carry  to  the  next  meeting  of  the  Plato 
Club.  He  had  a  bit  of  stone  from  the  holy  sepul- 
chre, the  dagger  and  a  lock  of  hair  of  Lord  Byron, 
and  a  roll  of  parchment  from  a  monastery  on 
Mount  Athos,  containing  a  fragment  of  a  pseudo- 
gospel  in  Greek,  in  which  were  related  the  spor- 
tive miracles  wrought  by  the  infant  Jesus  while  at 
play  with  his  fellows.  The  stone  was  a  fraud,  the 
relics  doubtful,  and  the  manuscript  a  forgery ; 
but  Mrs.  Prescott  had  a  surfeit  of  piety  and  senti- 
ment in  looking  them  over.  The  day  had  waned. 
Roderick  had  not  come  home,^  though  that  was  not 
unusual.  Mr.  Prescott  was  also  late.  But  Phcebe 
had  never  failed  to  return  to  lunch  before.  It  was 
surprising,  and  was  becoming  a  matter  for  alarm. 

Phcebe,  as  we  know  already,  had  few  acquaint- 
ances, and  scarcely  any  friends,  outside  the  family. 
If  she  had  a  relative  living,  she  did  not  know  it. 
When  Mrs.  Maloney  formally  surrendered  the 


MAN  PROPOSES.  91 

charge  of  her,  it  was  understood  that  visits  were  to 
be  as  infrequent  as  Christmas  and  Easter.  The 
barefoot  and  ragged  regiment  in  Mrs.  Maloney's 
neighborhood  had,  of  course,  lost  sight  of  their  old 
companion ;  and  the  young  ladies  of  her  own  age 
in  society  knew  little  more  of  her  than  if  she  had 
been  an  upper  servant  or  seamstress.  The  position 
of  a  dependent  had  its  trials ;  but  they  had  not 
only  been  borne  without  complaint,  but  had  been 
ignored.  Beside  her  protector's  family  and  her 
teachers,  she  was  absolutely  alone  in  the  world. 

Some  dim  consciousness  of  this  had  begun  to 
form  itself  in  Mrs.  Prescott's  mind.  As  she  had 
virtually  assumed  the  place  of  a  mother,  she  felt 
that  she  could  not  much  longer  delay  public 
acknowledgment  and  a  formal  presentation  of 
Phoebe  to  her  circle  of  friends. 

But  where  could  she  be  now  ?  She  had  sent  a 
servant  to  Signor  Belvedere,  and  had  learned  that 
he  was  not  at  home.  She  was  beginning  to  be 
nervously  anxious. 

Mr.  Prescott  and  Roderick  happened  to  enter  the 
house  together.  Not  having  rehearsed  their  parts, 
each  threw  a  meaning  glance  at  the  other  as  they 
passed  into  the  sitting-room. 

"  How  late  you  are  !  "  said  Mrs.  Prescott,  rising, 
and  greeting  her  husband  with  the  usual  kiss. 

"  Quite  sorry,  my  dear,"  he  replied ;  "  but  it 
couldn't  be  helped.  Business  has  been  trouble- 
some to-day." 

Roderick,  fearing  that  a  scene  would  ensue  if 


92  MAN  PROPOSES. 

his  step-father  were  to  be  precipitate,  gave  him 
another  warning  look.  Mr.  Prescott,  who  was 
still  greatly  agitated,  observed  the  caution  and 
returned  it. 

"  There  is  something  between  you  two,"  said 
Mrs.  Prescott.  "  You  look  at  each  other 
strangely." 

"  Have  patience,"  said  her  husband :  "  there  is 
no  cause  for  alarm." 

Her  expression  indicated  extreme  distress.  Ashy 
pallors  and  shadows  trembled  over  her  face  ;  pain- 
ful wrinkles  gathered  and  stiffened  upon  her  fore- 
head and  around  her  eyes ;  and  her  lips  seemed 
ready  to  utter  a  moan.  She  turned  to  her  son, 
and,  with  a  pathetic  voice,  explaimed,  "  Roderick, 
tell  me  what  is  this  ?  Suspense  will  kill  me." 

Mr.  Prescott  drew  her  to  the  sofa,  and  tried  to 
soothe  her ;  but  the  nervous  agitation  increased. 

"  Won't  you  wait,  dear  mother,"  said  Roderick, 
"and  let  us  talk  of  affairs  in  the  morning?" 

Her  reply  was  scarcely  articulate ;  and  it  was 
evident  that  something  must  be  told  her,  —  either 
she  must  hear  the  truth,  or  be  put  off  by  some 
evasion. 

"  My  dear  mother,  if  your  ancestor  the  admiral 
were  living,  and  if  he  were,  as  I  am,  an  American, 
if  he  were  twenty-five  years  old,  and  without 
wife  or  child,  and  his  country  needed  his  sword, 
what  do  you  think  he  would  do  ?  " 

The  mother  looked  at  him  wildly,  but  continued 
sobbing. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  93 

"I  have  no  doubt  what  you  will  say,  my  clear 
wife,"  said  the  elder,  "when  you  have  time  to 
reflect.  Roderick  has  stated  the  case  well,  and  we 
shall  see  if  you  have  not  some  of  the  old  Anglo- 
Saxon  spirit." 

At  length  she  found  words  to  say,  a  gasp  at  a 
time,  "  It  may  be  a  proud  thing  —  afterwards, 
but  terrible  while  the  danger  —  is  near  —  and  I 
can't  give  up  my  boy  —  no,  not  for  the  fame  of 
Nelson  —  and  my  ancestor  too.  Stay  with  me, 
Roderick ! " 

"  I  didn't  intend,"  said  Mr.  Prescott,  "  to  let  this 
matter  out  this  evening.  I  meant  to  take  a  proper 
time  and  a  smoother  way.  But  we  men  are  not 
very  artful ;  and,  while  we  thought  we  were  as 
secret  as  quails  under  a  bush,  you  read  us  both  at 
a  glance.  But  it  is  out.  Be  cheerful,  my  dear. 
All  our  young  men  are  volunteering.  Roderick 
will  go  with  the  best  youth  of  the  city.  He  will 
come  back  with  the  stars  of  a  general.  How 
proud  we  shall  be  of  him !  He  couldn't  stay  at 
home.  Pray  what  excuse  would  he  have?  He 
will  have  a  captain's  commission  in  a  new  regiment. 
When  it  is  organized,  he  will  probably  be  major  or 
lieutenant-colonel.  You  will  get  over  your  nat- 
ural trepidation,  and  will  rejoice  that  he  inherits 
the  spirit  of  your  grandfather." 

The  mother  felt  a  secret  thrill  at  these  words : 
but  the  sensation  was  transitory ;  the  natural 
instinct  was  too  strong,  and  she  could  not  repress 
her  thick-coming  sobs.  It  is  not  well  to  attempt 


94  MAN  PROPOSES. 

to  repeat  the  disjointed  phrases,  or  portray  the 
unreasoning  grief  of  a  mother's  heart. 

Roderick  moved  his  seat  next  to  her,  and  held 
her  hand,  while  her  head  fell  on  his  shoulder,  and 
the  tears  rained  down. 

Mr.  Prescott  walked  the  room,  and  wondered 
whether  he  had  been  too  stern,  whether  he 
should  have  favored  the  young  man's  volunteer- 
ing, whether  any  lack  of  affection  had  mingled 
with  the  sense  of  duty  in  his  talk  that  morning. 
His  own  lip  quivered,  and  his  breath  came  short, 
as  he  saw  his  wife's  distress.  Jt  was  useless  to  say, 
"  Cheer  up ;  "  for  the  current  of  sacred  grief,  like 
the  summer  rain,  must  have  its  course.  He  waited, 
uttering  now  and  then  a  soothing  word,  until  Mrs. 
Prescott  raised  her  head,  calmer,  though  still  tear- 
ful, and  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  Phoebe.  The 
question  stabbed  him  to  the  heart ;  but  he  was 
more  on  his  guard,  and  he  resolved  not  to  show 
his  secret  thought  to  her  again.  By  a  great 
effort  he  replied  that  he  had  not  seen  her  since 
breakfast.  He  did  not  look  at  his  wife  as  he 
spoke,  still  less  did  he  look  at  his  stepson.  Not 
if  he  could  help  it,  should  she  drain  this  other  cup 
of  grief  in  which  there  would  be  such  a  mingling 
of  shame. 

The  situation  of  the  young  man  was  pitiable. 
His  mother  was  already  prostrated  with  her  sorrow, 
and  it  needed  all  his  and  his  step-father's  care  to 
soothe  her.  The  morning's  conversation  with  the 
elder  left  no  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  the  cause  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  95 

the  girl's  absence  ;  but  he  could  only  remain  silent, 
since  the  worst  conjecture  could  hardly  be  more 
painful  to  the  mother  than  the  truth.  Mr.  Pres- 
cott  maintained  a  steadfast  silence  also ;  while  his 
wife  recalled  every  incident  of  the  last  few  days, 
set  up  one  baseless  theory  after  another,  and,  find- 
ing none  satisfactory,  finally  lapsed  into  a  gloom 
from  which  nothing  could  rouse  her.  One  grief 
she  might  have  overcome,  but  the  two  weighed 
her  down.  Mr.  Prescott  wondered  what  would 
have  happened  to  her  if  the  third  tremendous  fact, 
their  impending  ruin,  were  also  to  be  made  known. 
"  This  must  come  to  her  gradually,"  he  thought. 
"I  will  be  wise.  I  will  fit  up  the  old  house  in 
Eaglemont ;  and,  after  Roderick  is  off,  I  will  per- 
suade her  to  go  up  and  spend  the  summer  there. 
We  will  be  cheerful.  We  will  have  some  young 
people ; "  and  then  his  fancy  came  to  a  halt,  for 
he  thought  of  Phoebe,  and  was  again  in  the  slough 
of  despond. 

At  length  Mrs.  Prescott  rose  mournfully,  and 
walked  slowly  into  the  hall,  and  up  the  stairs  to 
her  chamber.  Both  the  husband  and  son  by  a 
common  instinct  respected  her  grief,  and  let  her 
pass  without  a  word ;  only  the  young  man,  steal- 
ing into  the  hall,  caught  her  hand  tenderly  as  it 
rested  upon  the  baluster-rail,  and  kissed  it. 

It  was  a  gloomy  dinner.  Flowers  fresh  and 
dewy  were  in  the  large  silver  dish  in  the  centre  of 
the  table,  and  miniature  bouquets  stood  by  each 
plate.  The  man-servant  stood  in  respectful  silence, 


96  MAN  PROPOSES. 


as  the  two  men,  with  heavy  hearts,  took  their 
places.  The  two  women  whose  beauty  and  spirit 
had  always  enlivened  the  table,  and  made  the  din- 
ner-hour the  brightest  of  the  twenty-four,  were 
absent.  The  one  was  stricken  with  an  incurable 
wound ;  and  the  other  —  where  was  she  ? 

Mr.  Prescott  after  a  time  motioned  away  the 
servant,  and  said,  "  This  is  a  bad  business,  this  of 
Phoebe's  going  away.  We  must  find  her.  I  will 
find  her,  and  I  will  bring  her  back  if  I  bring  her 
in  my  arms."  He  spoke  low,  but  his  eyes  glowed 
with  strong  emotion.  "  But  don't  think  I  will 
betray  you.  You  have  behaved  handsomely.  Only 
let  me  find  her.  I  will  make  all  things  smooth. 
We  must  have  -her  back,  for  your  mother's  sake 
and  mine." 

In  the  space  of  an  hour  Roderick  had  done  more 
serious  thinking  than  in  all  his  life  before.  Still 
he  could  riot  talk.  The  family  was  encompassed 
with  troubles  that  were  largely  due  to  his  own 
faults  and  errors.  He  could  say  nothing  in  face 
of  the  present  and  the  coming  calamities ;  and  the 
ordinary  topics  of  conversation  seemed  foolish  and 
impertinent.  But  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do 
his  devoir  as  a  son  and  a  soldier.  He  was  deter- 
mined, as  far  as  he  could,  to  atone  for  his  follies, 
to  implore  the  forgiveness  of  Phrebe  if  he  could 
only  find  her,  and  to  leave  behind  him  the  mem- 
ory of  duty  and  honor. 

Still  he  could  not  talk.  A  deep  sense  of  regret 
for  his  extravagance  and  his  aimless  life,  a  sense 


MAN  PROPOSES.  97 

of  burning  shame  for  his  lawless  conduct  towards 
a  pure  and  high-minded  girl,  filled  all  his  soul. 
The  step-father  saw  the  struggle  in  the  young 
man's  face,  and  brooded  over  the  gloomy  situation, 
feeling  that  the  one  gleam  of  hope  for  the  future 
was  to  arise  from  the  chivalric  deeds  of  the  re- 
pentant prodigal.  "  Roderick,"  he  said  at  length, 
"  I  think  you  are  wise  to  go  in  the  infantry.  You 
are  scarcely  strong  enough  for  cavalry  service. 
Your  command  will  be  black,  but  perhaps  more 
tractable.  You  will  have  much  to  do  in  the  next 
few  days.  You  are  to  get  your  equipment,  and 
begin  the  study  of  tactics.  You  will  have  no 
time  for  any  thing  else.  I  will  set  on  foot  every 
possible  inquiry  for  the  poor  girl."  His  voice 
choked  as  he  spoke.  He  went  on  in  a  calmer  tone, 
"I  thought  of  your  wants  after  we  parted.  I 
drew  a  check  for  you,  and  then,  when  I  came  to 
reflect,  it  seemed  small ;  and  as  I  am  getting  old, 
and  am  beyond  the  little  vanity  of  jewelry,  I 
thought  the  diamond  studs  your  mother  bought 
for  me  were  of  no  use  to  an  old  fellow,  and 
especially  to  one  who  is  soon  to  be  a  hermit  in 
Eaglemont,  and  I  sold  them.  So  here  are  the  two 
checks,  enough,  I  hope,  to  pay  your  bills,  and  fit 
you  out  as  an  officer,  and  my  son,  should  go." 

Roderick  looked  at  his  father's  shirt-front. 
True  enough,  there  was  a  set  of  plain  ivory  studs 
in  the  place  of  the  brilliant  gems  he  had  been 
used  to  wear.  He  sobbed  aloud,  "This  is  too 
much.  I  don't  deserve  it." 


98  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Pooh,  pooh  ! "  ejaculated  the  elder,  striving  to 
carry  it  off  as  a  matter  of  no  consequence :  "  I 
don't  need  the  things ;  better  they  should  serve 
some  useful  purpose/'  In  fact,  the  sacrifice  was 
little  to  him,  as  he  had  worn  the  bawbles  to  please 
his  wife.  To  the  young  man  it  seemed  quite  dif- 
ferent, for  he  tried  in  vain  to  imagine  such  self- 
denial  on  his  own  part. 

"I  never  saw  how  grand  and  good  you  were 
before,"  faltered  the  youth.  "If  I  live,  I  will 
deserve  your  regard,  your  affection,  my  dear, 
dear  father ! " 

"  Oh,  don't  cry  I "  said  the  father,  brushing  off 
two  or  three  glistening  drops  from  his  awn  cheek. 
"It  isn't  worth  a  tear,  nor  a  thought.  Don't  cry  ! " 
And  his  own  features  were  struggling  to  keep  up 
an  outward  semblance  of  stoicism. 

They  sat  long  at  the  table.  Their  hearts  had 
been  opened  each  to  the  other.  They  discussed 
the  momentous  events  of  the  day.  Roderick  saw 
himself,  his  step-father,  and  the  world  with  new 
eyes.  Tears  sometimes  clarify  the  vision. 

Mr.  Prescott  looked  at  the  changed  face,  and 
again  and  again  reproached  himself  that  he  had 
not,  years  ago,  by  daily  intercourse  and  by  the 
power  of  sympathy,  seized  hold  upon  the  boy,  and 
retained  his  influence  up  to  manhood.  He  judged 
rightly  that  it  was  in  a  measure  his  fault  that  he 
had  let  go  his  grasp,  and  allowed  a  difference  to 
grow  between  them,  until  their  lives  were  unal- 
terably divided. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  99 

For  this  passionate  repentance  which  we  have 
seen,  and  these  sudden  good  resolutions,  were  not 
feigned.  The  youth,  though  he  may  have  broken 
every  moral  law,  was  not  wholly  base.  His  life 
was  the  result  of  a  vicious  education.  His  habits 
had  been  formed  in  the  society  of  dandies,  idlers, 
and  spendthrifts.  His  notions  of  the  honor  of 
man  and  the  purity  of  woman  were  such  as  too 
often  prevail  among  our  gilded  youth.  It  is  only 
in  a  virtuous  home  that  young  men  see  the  true 
and  the  immutable  relations  of  society,  and  learn 
to  live  for  noble  ends.  Heaven  pity  the  youth 
whose  training  has  been  solely  in  a  fashionable 
club! 

"  Now,  if  we  can  only  find  Phoebe ! "  said  Mr. 
Prescott.  "I  know,  Roderick,  this  is  a  painful 
subject.  I  don't  refer  to  it  to  harrow  up  your 
feelings,  but  I  can't  keep  her  out  of  my  mind. 
Not  that  I  think  she  will  come  to  serious  harm, 
she  is  too  circumspect  and  too  high-spirited ;  but 
I  fear  she  will  do  some  quixotic  thing,  —  try  to 
teach  or  sing,  or  even  go  into  some  house  as  a  serv- 
ant. I  ache  to  think  what  she  must  suffer.  And 
by  to-morrow  your  mother  will  be  frantic." 

Roderick  was  silent. 

"We  won't  continue  this  conversation,"  said 
the  father.  "Leave  me  to  break  the  matter  to 
your  mother.  We  may  not  meet  in  the  morning. 
I  must  have  an  early  breakfast,  and  prepare  for 
what  is  coming.  Gibbs  will  be  fierce  after  his 
knock-down. — Plucky  little  fellow,  Amory,  though 


100  MAN  PROPOSES. 

I  am  afraid  he  precipitated  matters  for  me  when 
he  sent  Gibbs  reeling.     Good-night." 

Roderick  rose,  and  grasped  the  friendly  hand, 
stammered  some  inaudible  words,  and  then  fell 
back  into  his  chair  to  reflect. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  101 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MR.  PKESCOTT  went  early  to  his  office.  The 
sweeper  had  scarcely  finished  dusting  the  office 
furniture.  The  morning  letters  lay  on  the  chief 
clerk's  desk,  unopened.  Amory  was  at  his  desk, 
of  which  the  lid  was  propped  up,  and  the  drawers 
out,  clearing  the  receptacles  of  his  private  papers. 
There  was  a  look  of  half-comic  resolution  on  his 
face.  His  ripe  and  pulpy  lips  seemed  to  have 
grown  solid.  Even  the  cowlick  on  his  broad 
round  forehead  appeared  to  stand  up  more  de- 
fiantly than  usual. 

"  Ah !  "  said  he.  "  Good-morning,  Mr.  Prescott. 
I  was  afraid  it  was  Gibbs." 

"  And  so  you  are  really  going  ?  Have  you  any 
thing  to  depend  upon  ?  " 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  that. 
Gibbs  wouldn't  care  if  I  had  to  go  to  the  Island." 

"  Do  you  want  any  thing  for  your  fine  and 
costs  ?  After  all,  it  was  my  battle  you  fought." 

Amory  laughed.  "  No,  I  thank  you,  I  have 
plenty  ;  and,  if  the  judge  is  reasonable,  I  sha'n't 
complain.  The  knock  was  worth  all  it  will  cost. 
I  am  comfortably  well  off.  My  mother  owns  a 
little  house.  We  have  been  very  prudent,  and  I 
am  glad  to  say  I  have  saved  something." 


102  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  On  a  thousand  a  year  ?  " 

"  Yes,  on  a  thousand  a  year.  And  I  have  spent 
a  hundred  the  last  year  for  lectures  at  the  Poly- 
technic School  too.  But  then  I  have  earned 
something,"  here  his  tone  grew  confidential,  "  by 
writing.  I  was  named  for  a  poet,  —  a  dangerous 
experiment  on  the  part  of  parents.  Napoleon  was 
made  a  butcher  by  getting  a  present  of  a.  toy  can- 
non when  a  child,  and  I  got  a  fatal  lurch  towards 
poetry  by  being  called  Percival.  The  toughest 
thing  that  can  happen  to  a  man  is  to  have  a  long- 
ing and  taste  for  something  he  has  not  the  talent 
for.  My  poems  were  published  in  '  The  Evening 
Tea-Table  ; '  but  I  never  could  sell  one  for  a  six- 
pence. Thinks  I,  this  will  never  do.  No  talent 
is  worth  any  thing  that  doesn't  bring  in  some- 
thing, that  doesn't  bear  on  the  question  of  bread 
and  butter.  The  sky  over  me  was  full  of  butterfly 
thoughts ;  but  they  didn't  light.  The  actual  lines 
I  wrote  were  a  great  ways  from  the  unspeakable 
things  I  imagined.  But  I  am  boring  you  with 
my  gabble  ?  " 

"  No  :  go  on.  It's  early.  I  like  to  hear  you.  It 
is  a  relief." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  short ;  though  generally,  when  a 
man  says  that,  you  may  look  out  for  a  long  stretch. 
I  want  to  show  you  how  helpless  a  fellow  is  when 
he  can't  catch  his  butterflies.  Look  at  that  scrib- 
bled sheet  of  paper,  its  usefulness  gone  —  as 
paper.  Some  fellows  wouldn't  show  it,  because  it 
is  a  record  of  failures.  But  I'm  not  ashamed  to 


MAN  PROPOSES.  103 

show  it,  for  there  is  an  idea  in  it,  —  without  form, 
but  not  void ;  and  that  is  more  than  you  can  say 
for  many  finished  verses.  There  are  four  lines 
together.  There  are  three.  Then  see  the  scrawls, 
the  erasures,  the  blots.  That's  me !  Do  you 
want  the  history  of  that  effort?  Read  that  first 
quatrain : 

pcfclicil  oc 
'  Brave  little  birds  on  the  telegraph  wire, 

'  Motionless  dots  on  an  air-spun  line, 

'  Breasting  the  wind  as  its  surges  rise  higher, 

'  Would  that  your  trust  and  your  patience  were  mine. 

"  Not  bad,  are  they  ?  only  the  last  line  is  rather 
pious  and  humdrum ;  but  I  couldn't  get  the 
rhyme  in  any  other  way.  Well,  now  look  at  that 
group  of  lines,  and  that :  — 

—buries— 
'  Snow  crowns  the  window  caps,  ice  paves  the  street 


'Elm  branches  groan  o'er  the  desolate  malls, 
'  Still  on  your  airy  line  hold  your  firm  seat, 
4  Waiting  the  signal  — 


;  Now  on  the  portico  fluttering  come 

springing 

;  Tiny  feet  hopping,  sharp  eyes  askance 
'•  Warily  pecking 


104  MAN  PROPOSES. 


'  Trees  writhe  &  moan  like  the  maniac  king 


ay  goer  'hr  laah  -UK! — 
'Till  out  of  my  window  the  signal  I  fling 


Iti  Aolt  luiij,  alccp  arc  'aid.  - 
'  Insect  and  worm  out  of  reach  are  asleep 

— A — 


"  But  they  wouldn't  come  into  shape.  You  see, 
I  was  looking  out  one  day  at  the  sparrows  that 
rode  on  the  wire  opposite  my  window.  No  food  for 
them ;  insect  and  worm  asleep ;  the  earth  in  icy 
mail.  When  I  raised  the  sash  and  whistled,  they 
fluttered  down  to  the  roof  of  the  portico,  hopped 
saucily  up  to  the  window-sill,  gobbled  the  crumbs 
with  such  a  funny  voracity,  and  then  flew  back  to 
swing  in  the  wind  again.  Then  I  thought  how 
the  messages  of  love  and  death,  of  crime,  battles, 
politics,  and  business  from  all  over  the  world,  were 
coming  under  those  tiny  feet,  and  the  little  souls 
were  unconscious  of  the  momentous  thoughts  that 
were  rushing  like  lightning  over  the  wire  they 
clung  to.  And  then  I  thought  that  men  here 
on  this  planet,  which  is  only  a  great  electrical 
machine  through  which  the  thoughts  of  God  are 
pulsing,  creating  diamonds,  it  may  be,  or  causing 
earthquakes  or  tidal  waves,  were  really  uncon- 
scious as  the  birds.  Well,  a  great  many  such  fan- 
cies flitted  over  head,  —  butterflies,  I  have  called 
them,  —  and  I  wanted  to  catch  them.  As  I  said, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  105 

they  wouldn't  light.  See  how  I  wrestled  here, 
and  here  !  No  use  :  I  was  stuck,  like  a  fly  in  honey. 
I  kept  the  thing  three  months.  I  sat  down  to  it 
every  few  days,  and  vowed  I  would  accomplish  it. 
But  I  didn't,  and  there  is  the  sorry-looking  sheet." 

"  They  say  that  poets  only  express  what  other 
men  feel,"  said  Mr.  Prescott. 

"  Yes ;  and  after  a  while  I  concluded  to  leave  the 
job  to  them.  For  myself  I  gave  it  up.  As  I'm 
going  away,  I  don't  mind  saying,  that,  in  the  cause 
of  bread  and  butter,  I  made  a  more  effective  use 
of  my  faculties.  You  see  how  the  great  tailors  and 
the  furniture-and-carpet  men  come  out  in  rhymed 
advertisements  :  well,  that  pays,  —  pays  as  well  as 
the  poetry  of  the  '  Pacific.' 

Mr.  Prescott  laughed  immoderately.  "Why, 
you  don't  say  that  flowery  flummery  stuff  is 
yours?" 

"  Perfectly  willing  you  should  laugh.  I  know 
what  it  is:  I  don't  flatter  myself  a  particle.  I 
know  it  is  bosh.  But  I  am  not  above  earning  an 
honest  penny.  I  have  paid  for  the  Polytechnic 
Lectures  by  that  bosh,  and  saved  a  good  bit  be- 
sides. And  the  lectures  are  not  bosh." 

"  Pray  what  have  you  been  learning  at  the 
Polytechnic  School?" 

"  To  use  my  eyes  and  my  faculties.  I  have 
been  digging  into  natural  science.  But  never 
mind  now.  I  am  a  fool  to  be  talking  of  my  non- 
sense when  you  must  have  so  much  upon  your 
mind.  My  papers  are  gathered,  —  a  precious  lot 


106  MAN  PROPOSES. 

they  are,  —  and  I  am  going.  I  think  I  shall  take 
a  trip  out  West.  Perhaps,  in  that  region  of  vast 
distances,  my  faculties  may  have  a  late  expansion, 
and  my  mother  may  not  have  named  me  Gates 
Percival  in  vain." 

"  If  I  should  carry  on  the  business  alone,  would 
you  come  back  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  am  afraid  you  won't  vanquish 
the  beast  (beg  pardon),  won't  get  the  better  of 
Mr.  Gibbs.  I  think  of  you  more  than  you  will 
ever  know.  There  is  nothing  under  heaven  I 
wouldn't  do  for  you.  But  I  can  do  you  no  good 
here,  perhaps  not  anywhere."  Amory  here  as- 
sumed a  .reflective  air,  and  talked  in  a  tone  that 
sounded  like  philosophy.  "Besides,  I  am  not 
satisfied  with  business.  What  is  business  ?  Self- 
ishness. Any  Christianity  in  it?  Any  honor,  such 
as  even  a  Pagan  like  Cicero  would  approve  ?  Not 
any.  Three  partners  are  together:  two  of  them 
think  they  can  get  along  without  the  third,  and 
they  crowd  him  out.  He  is  crippled,  and  his  life's 
prospects  gone.  Do  the  two  care  ?  Not  much. 
I  have  never  seen  a  transaction  in  this  house, 
never  seen  a  letter  written  (begging  your  pardon), 
that  was  not  based  solely  upon  self-interest. 
Natural,  you  say ;  but  where  does  the  Christianity 
come  in?  Mr.  Gibbs  is  merely  acting  on  this 
rule,  '  Look  out  for  yourself,  and  devil  take  the 
hindmost.  Make  what  you  can  out  of  every  man, 
and,  when  you  can  get  no  more  out  of  him,  drop 
him,  kick  him  out.'  Mr.  Gibbs  owed  every  thing 


MAN  PROPOSES.  107 

to  you.  What  does  that  matter?  Business  is 
business.  He  has  capital  enough  of  his  own,  and 
doesn't  need  you.  Brains  he  can  hire ;  not  mine, 
however.  He  can't  hire  me  for  the  tenth  part  of  a 
second.  I  think  of  Falstaff,  and  his  catechism 
about  honor,  and  I  say  about  '  business,'  '  I'll  none 
of  it.'  If  you  succeed,  it  is  because  you  are  not 
troubled  by  Christian  principles,  nor  hedged  in  by 
honor,  nor  softened  by  sentiment.  Cussedness 
wins,  with  the  cutting  edge  kept  dead  ahead." 

"And  this  is  what  you  have  learned  in  my 
counting-room  ?  "  said  Mr.  Prescott  seriously. 

"  Not  here  especially,  and  never  from  you ;  but 
these  notions,  though  men  don't  advocate  them, 
because  they  have  an  ugly  sound  nakedly  stated, 
—  these  notions,  I  say,  are  in  the  air.  Your  great 
merchant,  like  Stewart,  is  only  the  one  overgrown 
pickerel  in  the  pond,  swallowing  every  smaller 
fish  he  can  seize.  I  say,  in  short,  that  the  rule  in 
business  is  to  look  at  every  question  solely  as  it 
affects  your  own  interest." 

"You  may  say  the  burglar  and  pickpocket  do 
that." 

"  Oh  !  that  is  extremely  silly  —  on  the  part  of  the 
thieves.  There  are  laws  against  what  are  called 
crimes,  and  prisons  for  the  fools  that  are  caught. 
Your  good  business  man  doesn't  break  the  law,  — 
unless  he  can  do  it  safety,  not  he ;  and  he  has  his 
lawyer  to  tell  him  how  far  he  can  go." 

"  Well,  well !  "  said  Mr.  Prescott,  "  this  is  a  sin- 
gular commentary.  It  seems  that  I  am  rightfully 


108  MAN  PROPOSES. 


overthrown,  that  I  am  only  the  engineer  '  hoist  with 
his  own  petard.' " 

"  Don't  for  a  minute  think,  Mr.  Prescott,  that 
in  this  way  I  justify  Gibbs.  Dash  him  !  I  should 
like  to  knock  him  over  again,  and  then  wring  his 
neck,  an  ungrateful,  treacherous,  arrogant  beast ! 
But  I  see  how  men  like  him  construe  the  law  of 
business,  which  is  only  selfishness,  and  how  they 
count  their  very  baseness  an  honor.  I  don't  know 
that  I  shall  ever  go  into  business  again :  if  I  do, 
I'll  come  to  you.  If  there  is  a  Christian  man  in 
the  street,  it  is  you ;  and  I  am  afraid  that  is  what's 
the  matter." 

"  Thank  you,  Amory.  I  knew  I  was  sure  of 
your  good  wishes." 

"There  is  another  matter,  Mr.  Prescott,"  and 
the  young  man  spoke  in  a  lower  tone.  "  You  may 
remember  —  or,  I  should  say,  you  have  heard,  per- 
haps —  your  niece  in  Eaglemont,  Miss  Mary,  your 
brother  Solomon's  daughter.  I  saw  her  here  last 
Christmas ;  and,  before  I  go  West,  I  might  take 
a  run  up  there.  Picturesque  old  place,  isn't  it? 
I  think  I  might  fill  out  that  mutilated  poem  if  I 
were  on  the  old  hill,  looking  down." 

"And  with  Mary  sitting  beside  you  for  a 
muse ! " 

"Don't  jest,  please,  when  her  name  is  men- 
tioned." 

"  Well,  and  as  to  the  young  lady  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  her.  It  seems  they  are 
looking  for  Robert.  He  left  here  yesterday ;  and  I 


MAN  PROPOSES.  109 

suppose  is  going  to  sail  for  India,  or  China,  or 
some  other  heathenish  place  "  — 

"  To  introduce  '  business  '  views  among  the  inno- 
cent natives,"  suggested  Mr.  Prescott. 

"  Oh !  he's  in  dead  earnest.  Your  nephew  is  a 
man  of  a  million.  He  is  as  lovely  as  John,  as  fer- 
vent as  Paul,  and  brave  as  Peter.  His  head  is 
above  the  clouds  like  a  mountain-top ;  and  the  light 
of  heaven  shines  on  it." 

"  That  sounds  like  a  quotation  from  one  of  your 
poems." 

Amory  actually  blushed.  It  was,  in  fact,  a 
thought  from  a  sonnet  he  had  sent  to  the  fair  maid 
of  Eaglemont. 

Mr.  Prescott  thought  a  moment.  "  Amory,  you 
can  do  me  a  favor.  Tell  my  brother  Solomon  that 
we  are  going  to  pass  the  summer  in  the  old  house, 
the  one  half  way  down  the  hill.  Ask  him  to  get 
Bissell  the  carpenter  to  go  over  it,  and  put  it  in 
order,  and  then  let  Lane  give  it  a  coat  of  paint 
outside  and  in.  I  would  have  the  garden  spaded 
and  raked,  and  the  fences  mended.  See  that  the 
whole  place  is  in  decent  order.  You  might  give 
them  the  benefit  of  your  advice,  though  I  have 
no  doubt  the  mechanics  will  be  faithful :  '  busi- 
ness' views,  as  you  state  them,  have  not  yet 
reached  Eaglemont." 

Amory  was  only  too  happy  to  be  of  service  to 
the  man  to  whom  he  was  bound  by  so  many  ties, 
and  whom  he  regarded  with  a  feeling  that  was 
little  short  of  veneration.  He  now  was  ready  to 


110  MAN  PROPOSES. 

go.  His  hand-bag  of  letters  and  manuscripts  was 
strapped,  and  yet  he  lingered. 

"Mr.  Prescott,"  said  he,  "you  have  three 
months  in  which  to  decide.  Suppose  you  try  to 
find  a  partner,  and  make  a  new  combination? 
You  may  raise  the  money,  and  euchre  Gibbs." 

Mr.  Prescott  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  afraid  not. 
I  am  getting  old.  As  you  have  been  saying,  I  fear 
I  don't  understand  business.  It  was  different 
when  I  began.  I  got  the  seven  companies  for 
whom  we  sell  when  my  word  was  as  good  as  my 
bond,  and  every  mill-agent  and  treasurer  knew  it. 
Now  affairs  are  changed.  The  mills  need  money, 
and  the  selling  agents  have  to  raise  it  for  them. 
It  is,  a  case  of  the  servant  becoming  greater  than 
his  nominal  master.  The  corporations  have  got 
to  give  their  affairs  into  the  hands  of  those  who 
can  supply  their  wants,  and  their  wants  grow 
every  year.  Gibbs  can  raise  five  dollars  to  my 
one.  He  is  lucky,  believes  in  himself,  and  others 
trust  to  his  star.  I  shall  have,  perhaps,  some  sym- 
pathy ;  but  I  shall  have  to  quit  the  street,  sell  the 
house  that  my  wife  thinks  so  much  of,  and  go  into 
the  country.  Exit  Prescott." 

"Still  I  beg  of  you  hold  on  to  your  three 
months.  You  can  never  tell  what  is  going  to  hap- 
pen. Gibbs  may  die." 

"  No  chance  of  that.     He  is  tough  as  a  bull." 

"  So  was  Eben  Fancher ;  but  dinners  at  the  club, 
and  a  carriage  back  and  forth,  did  for  him.  Sur- 
feit and  laziness,  physical  inactivity,  I  mean,  will 


MAN  PROPOSES.  Ill 

do  for  any  man.  Gibbs  will  go  the  same  road, 
and  they'll  find  him  some  day  a  dead  load  in  his 
coupe"." 

"  I  can't  speculate  on  such  chances." 
"  No ;  but  you  bide  your  time,  and  take  the 
chances  that  come.  Good-by,  Mr.  Prescott.  You 
will  hear  from  me.  God  bless  you,  sir,  good-by ! " 
The  resolute  little  man  walked  off  stoutly,  but 
with  a  quiver  on  his  lip  that  Mr.  Gibbs,  who  was 
coming  in,  attributed  to  an  emotion  which  the  dis- 
charged clerk  never  once  felt.  The  partners,  rec- 
ognizing each  other  with  a  nod,  withdrew  to  their 
several  rooms.  Mr.  Prescott  marshalled  his  beg- 
garly assets,  and,  after  trying  in  vain  to  put  his 
mind  to  business,  went  out  to  take  a  stroll. 

Mr.  Gibbs  watched  the  senior  through  the 
crack  of  the  door,  and  chuckled  as  he  saw  his 
heavy  step,  and  noted  the  deepening  lines  about 
his  eyes.  Does  the  stock  operator  sorrow  for  the 
man  caught  in  his  toils  ?  Does  the  hunter  sorrow 
for  the  stag  brought  down  by  his  rifle  ? 


112  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  X. 

UP  to  the  moment  that  Robert  Prescott  left  her 
with  that  tender  benediction,  Phoebe  had  been 
uncertain  what  she  would  do.  When  she  left 
home  in  the  morning,  she  had  determined  not  to 
return,  but  to  find  some  other  place  to  live.  The 
advice  of  Signor  Belvedere  made  a  strong  impres- 
sion upon  her,  and  she  was  almost  persuaded  to  go 
back  to  Mrs.  Prescott.  Then  came  her  interview 
with  her  lover,  Robert,  and  it  was  very  trying  to 
her.  His  personal  magnetism  was  very  strong. 
His  intellectual  character  gave  his  love-making  a 
tone  which  might  seem  unreal ;  but  to  her  it  was 
sincere  and  spontaneous.  The  spoken  words  had 
a  tender  and  winning  quality,  something  that  is 
beyond  types  to  represent.  So  strenuously  had  he 
pressed  the  matter,  that  she  was  utterly  weary  and 
overcome  when  left  to  herself.  Furthermore,  with 
the  recollection  of  this  man,  strong  in  mind  and 
heart  as  in  body,  with  the  sense  of  his  purity, 
straight-forwardness,  and  generosity,  the  contrast 
between  him  and  Roderick,  the  elegant  sensualist, 
was  too  painful  to  be  considered  for  a  moment. 
With  every  remembered  trait  of  the  one,  the  idea 
of  the  other  grew  more  repulsive.  She  had  parted 


MAN  PROPOSES.  113 

with  the  man  whom  she  reverenced:  could  she 
return  to  a  companionship  that  she  loathed  ?  The 
strong  and  poetic  man  was  solemn,  and  perhaps 
repellent :  the  gay  and  graceful  man  was  corrupt 
and  insincere,  and  they  were  the  only  admirers 
she  had  ever  known.  She  walked  on,  unobserv- 
ant of  streets,  while  these  thoughts  revolved  in 
her  mind.  She  thought  of  Mrs.  Prescott's  concern 
for  her  absence,  of  her  alarm  perhaps,  and  of  a 
search  being  made  for  her.  She  thought  of  Mr. 
Prescott's  surprise  and  distress.  Once  or  twice 
she  half  resolved  to  turn,  and  find  her  way  back. 
Then  came  the  thought  of  the  unspeakable ;  and 
her  eyes  flashed  again,  her  mouth  was  firmly  com- 
pressed, her  bosom  heaved,  and  she  strode  on 
among  foul  faces  and  evil  eyes,  through  districts 
as  unknown  to  her  as  Africa. 

In  a  narrow  street,  now  mostly  filled  with  shops 
of  mechanics,  there  was  an  old-fashioned  brick 
dwelling,  whose  ample  doorway  and  carved  pilas- 
ters bore  witness  to  the  wealth  and  position  of  its 
original  occupants.  The  house  seemed  to  have 
withdrawn  from  the  noise  of  the  neighborhood, 
relying  upon  the  grim  brick  wall  at  the  street-line 
as  a  barrier.  Through  the  open  fret-work  of  the 
iron  gate  in  front,  the  windows  might  be  seen 
closely  blinded.  There  was  no  bell-pull,  only  a 
grim  lion's-head  knocker.  There  was  once  a 
paved  carriage-way  at  the  side ;  but  grass  and 
weeds  had  covered  the  regular  lines  of  cobble- 
stones with  thick,  dusty  tufts,  and  the  great  gate 


114  MAN  PROPOSES. 

that  used  to  be  opened  for  carriages  had  been 
nailed  up  for  a  generation.  A  brick  building  at 
the  rear  of  the  yard,  on  the  right  of  the  house, 
held  the  old  family  coach ;  but  it  had  been  fastened 
in  an  original  way  by  a  contrivance  of  nature's 
own.  A  horse-chestnut  tree  had  grown  up  in 
front  of  the  door  to  a  goodly  size,  and  closed  it 
effectually.  However,  it  was  no  matter;  for  the 
ancient  yellow  coach  within  was  the  home  of  rats, 
and  was  festooned  with  cobwebs.  No  one  had 
seen  it,  apparently  for  years,  except  a  few  urchins, 
who  at  times  had  scaled  the  fence,  and  looked  in 
at  its  faded  splendor  through  the  crack  of  the  door. 

Phoebe  stood  and  looked  in  at  the  gate.  This 
was  better  than  to  go  back  to  the  poor  and  com- 
fortless home  of  Mrs.  Maloney.  This  was  a  place 
of  which  she  had  often  heard ;  because  it  was  the 
residence  of  an  eccentric  lady,  Miss  Thorpe,  who 
was  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Prescott,  and  had  sometimes 
attended  the  sessions  of  the  Plato  Club.  A  sud- 
den impulse  seized  the  girl.  Of  all  the  women 
she  had  ever  known,  Miss  Thorpe  seemed  to  her 
one  of  the  most  original -and  most  attractive.  Not 
that  she  felt  the  sympathy  of  likeness :  she  knew 
that  Miss  Thorpe  was  in  every  respect  a  contrast. 
But  she  knew  that  Miss  Thorpe  lived  alone,  with 
only  one  servant,  and  that  she  was  regarded  as» 
the  most  actively,  indefatigably  charitable  woman 
in  town. 

Phoebe  opened  the  gate  and  walked  up  the  path, 
and  then  with  a  sensation  of  dread  raised  the  pon- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  115 

derous  knocker,  and  let  it  clang  against  the  solidly 
panelled  door. 

She  was  admitted  by  a  •  good-natured  looking 
Irish  woman,  with  broad  shoulders,  ample  chest, 
wavy  chestnut  hair,  and  mild  blue  eyes,  —  the  very 
counterpart  of  her  old  friend,  Mrs.  Maloney.  The 
servant  evidently  recognized  Phoebe's  face  as  being 
a  familiar  one,  and  showed  her  into  the  drawing- 
room. 

A  serene  little  woman  came  into  the  room.  She 
was  perhaps  forty  years  old.  Her  features  were 
smooth,  and  her  complexion  delicate  almost  to 
transparency:  her  gray  hair  was  brushed  back 
from  her  face,  and  its  luxuriance  gathered  in  a 
classic  coil  behind.  Very  slight  in  figure  she 
seemed,  but  not  weak  or  fragile.  Her  face  wore 
a  look  of  dignity  and  gentleness.  Her  dress  was 
a  neutral-tinted  silk,  plainly  made.  Her  linen  col- 
lar was  fastened  by  an  antique  cameo  brooch ;  but, 
excepting  a  plain  seal-ring  on  her  right  hand,  she 
wore  no  other  jewelry.  But  these  details,  which 
occupy  so  much  space  in  description,  came  to  the 
eye  at  a  glance ;  for  never  was  there  a  picture 
more  harmonious  than  the  stately  little  lady  pre- 
sented. Figure,  face,  expression,  carriage,  and 
costume  belonged  together,  and  had  been  fore- 
ordained from  the  beginning. 

How  to  address  such  a  person !  What  could  a 
homeless  girl  say  ? 

Fortunately  Miss  Thorpe  remembered  her  vis- 
itor, and  with  thoughtful  kindness  made  her  wel- 


116  MAN  PROPOSES. 

come.  The  few  minutes  of  preliminary  common- 
places often  serve  an  important  purpose ;  and 
Phoebe  was  very  soon  able  to  turn  the  conversa- 
tion into  the  channel  in  which  her  tumultuous 
thoughts  were  tossing  about.  So  she  told  Miss 
Thorpe  what  she  remembered  of  her  earlier  years, 
and  of  her  residence  with  Mrs.  Prescott.  She 
spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  Signer  Belvedere  and 
of  her  progress  in  music.  She  spoke  modestly  of 
her  hopes  and  of  her  vague  plans  for  her  own 
support,  and  added  that,  first  of  all,  she  wished 
to  get  a  home,  and  then  to  get  pupils  in  singing. 

"Does  Mrs.  Prescott  know  of  this,  —  of  your 
coming  to  me?"  Miss  Thorpe  had  noticed  the 
expression  of  pain  in  her  face,  and  now  saw  it 
grow  more  intense. 

"  Oh,  no !  My  coming  here  was  a  pure  acci- 
dent. I  had  heard  of  your  house,  and  knew  it 
from  description,  and  I  came  in  because  I  had  a 
pleasant  recollection  of  you.  If  I  had  not  hap- 
pened to  pass  here,  and  to  think  of  you,  I  don't 
know  where  I  might  have  gone." 

"  Then  I  infer  that  you  are  leaving  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott?" 

"  Yes.  And  this  is  the  most  painful  thing,  that 
I  can't  tell  you  why.  I  beg  of  you  don't  ask  me. 
But  I  must  say,  for  fear  you  will  think  ill  of  me, 
that  I  don't  leave  for  any  fault  of  mine,  —  not  for 
any  quarrel  or  difference.  I  know  Mrs.  Prescott 
is  looking  for  me  at  this  moment,  and  will  be  sur- 
prised and  grieved  that  I  don't  return."  The  tears 
began  to  start. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  117 

"  But  you  will  not  go  back  ?  " 

Phoebe  shook  her  head  in  silence. 

"  This  is  very  singular,"  said  Miss  Thorpe,  as  if 
in  soliloquy,  "  and  I  don't  know  but  I  ought  to  see 
Mrs.  Prescott." 

"  I  pray  you  don't  think  of  it.  If  you  wish  it, 
I  will  leave  you.  If  you  distrust  me,  I  must  leave 
you.  I  only  want  a  short  time  to  think,  to  plan, 
to  get  a  good  home,  and  get  started  as  a  teacher. 
I  don't  wish  to  be  dependent  upon  any  one. 
Pray  don't  speak  of  going  to  Mrs.  Prescott.  I 
cannot  bear  it.  I  am  not  a  runaway  child."  Her 
sobs  increased. 

"  Pray  how  old  are  you,  miss?  " 

"  Nineteen,  nearly  twenty." 

"  Old  enough,  certainly,  to  know  your  own 
mind.  And  I  do  trust  you,  and  will  help  you,  — 
not  perhaps  wholly  in  the  way  you  expect." 

Miss  Thorpe  had  been  rapidly  making  a  super- 
ficial analysis,  and  it  ran  something  like  this :  "  A 
good  face,  as  well  as  a  handsome  one.  Eyes  clear 
and  truthful.  Head  fine,  large,  and  well-balanced  ; 
temperament,  though,  is  very  sanguine.  A  dan- 
gerous glow  of  feeling.  Tendencies  towards  sen- 
suous art.  Susceptible  to  pleasure,  and  liable  to 
its  retributions.  Good  reasoning  faculties.  May 
escape  the  weakening  of  moral  tone  caused  by 
indulgence  in  music." 

"  The  truth  is,  Miss  Phoebe,"  she  went  on,  "  I 
am  not  sure  about  your  career  as  a  singer,  —  I 
mean  I  couldn't  advise  you  to  follow  it.  Music 


118  MAN  PROPOSES. 

should  be  only  an  occasional  amusement.  It  is  re- 
bellion against  reason,  because  it  is  an  indulgence 
in  an  emotion.  An  emotion  may  control  an  infant, 
a  savage,  a  Southern  negro ;  but  reason  alone  con- 
trols an  intellectual  being.  Without  the  control 
of  reason,  the  soul  is  at  sea.  There  are  musical 
emotions,  and  emotions  of  the  beautiful  in  art ; 
there  are  so-called  religious  emotions,  and  others 
still  stronger,  not  so  often  mentioned.  I  am  not 
sure  that  all  emotions  are  not  correlated,  and  glide 
into  each  other  like  the  forces  of  nature.  But 
this  is  a  philosophy  you  have  yet  to  learn.  To 
teach  piano  —  yes;  and  the  art  of  singing  —  yes, 
up  to  a  certain  point.  But  the  delirium  of  song, 
especially  of  the  passionate  sort,  is  to  be  avoided." 
She  looked  as  steadfast  as  a  piece  of  sculpture  as 
she  uttered  these  sentences. 

Phcebe  felt  that  she  was  encountering  a  new 
force.  Mr.  Prescott  was  always  sensible,  and 
sometimes  energetic ;  Mrs.  Prescott's  nature  was 
receptive,  easily  pleased,  fond  of  superlatives,  too 
indolent  for  consecutive  thinking;  but  Miss  Thorpe 
was  quite  another  person.  Here  was  a  woman, 
who,  with  the  sweetest  tones  and  the  most  delicate 
feminine  emphasis,  was  letting  fly  definitions  and 
distinctions,  and  creating  a  new  metaphysical 
world.  Phoebe  was  at  once  interested,  piqued, 
and  nonplussed.  She  tried  to  measure  herself 
against  this  active,  tireless  nature.  It  was  impos- 
sible. In  "  thought's  interior  sphere  "  Phoebe  had 
almost  every  thing  to  learn. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  119 

"But  you  look  fatigued,"  said  Miss  Thorpe, 
"and  I  dare  say  you  are  hungry.  I  envy  you 
fresh  and  hearty  young  people  your  appetites." 
She  led  the  way,  and  they  walked  into  the  next 
room,  and  sat  down  to  lunch.  Miss  Thorpe  took 
a  cup  of  tea,  a  slice  of  toast,  and  a  small  piece  of 
honey  in  the  comb.  Phoebe  was  indeed  hungry, 
and  could  have  devoured  the  delicate  portion  given 
her  in  a  moment;  but  she  instinctively  paused 
when  she  noticed  Miss  Thorpe's  slow  and  dainty 
manner,  and  she  could  not  help  wondering  what 
those  full  rows  of  beautiful  teeth  could  be  doing 
so  long  with  those  little  bits  of  bread.  Miss 
Thorpe  had  brought  herself  to  regard  appetite  as 
something  not  quite  in  harmony  with  a  spiritual 
organization,  and  therefore  to  be  repressed, 
brought  to  a  minimum,  like  the  other  unavoidable 
accidents  of  this  mortal  life.  But,  now  that  she 
looked  more  closely  at  Phoebe,  she  said,  "  I  don't 
believe  you  breakfasted,  either.  You  need  food 
and  rest." 

She  rang  a  bell;  and,  when  the  servant  appeared, 
she  ordered  a  slice  of  steak  broiled,  and  would 
hear  of  no  objection  on  Phoebe's  part. 

"  I  cannot  quite  make  up  my  mind  to  do  with- 
out animal  food,  Phcebe,  —  we  will  drop  the  '  Miss,' 
if  you  please,  —  though  I  seldom  eat  it  more  than 
twice  a  week.  But  I  must  say  I  have  some  com- 
punctions about  eating  flesh.  I  feel  that  I  am  an 
abettor  of  murder  when  I  taste  it.  I  have  never 
seen  any  answer  to  the  gentle  creed  of  Goldsmith's 
hermit:  — 


120  MAN  PROPOSES. 

'  Xo  flocks  that  range  the  hillside  free 

To  slaughter  I  condemn : 
Taught  by  the  Power  that  pities  me, 
I  learn  to  pity  them.' " 

Here  the  slice  of  steak  came  in,  not  a  very  for- 
midable one  as  it  seemed  to  Phrebe. 

Miss  Thorpe  went  on.  "Eat,  my  dear  girl.  I 
like  to  see  you  enjoy  it.  Some  Malthus  of  herds 
will  give  us  the  other  side  of  the  argument, — as 
to  flesh-eating,  I  mean.  But  it  is  against  our  finer 
instincts,  against  mercy,  and,  I  am  afraid,  against 
justice,  to  take  life  without  necessity.  But  I  for- 
get that  my  philosophy  may  spoil  your  appetite." 

Phoebe  wondered  who  Malthus  was,  and  why 
he  was  opposed  to  eating  beefsteak;  but  she 
thought  she  would  not  inquire  then.  There  were 
books  everywhere  in  the  rooms;  and  she  prom- 
ised herself  she  would  read  some,  enough,  at  any 
rate,  to  enable  her  to  understand  what  Miss 
Thorpe  was  talking  about. 

After  lunch  Phuebe  refreshed  her  tear-stained 
eyes  with  water;  and,  as  the  sorrowful  look  faded, 
her  beauty  shone  out  like  Cowper's  rose  "just 
washed  in  a  shower." 

It  was  settled,  that,  for  the  present,  she  was  to 
remain  with  Miss  Thorpe,  and  that  a  letter  should 
at  once  be  sent  by  Phoabe  to  Mrs.  Prescott.  The 
arrangements  for  the  future  were  to  be  afterwards 
discussed.  A  boy  was  found  to  carry  the  letter  ; 
but  as  he  was  thoughtlessly  paid  beforehand,  and 
quite  liberally,  he  could  not  cross  to  the  fashion- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  121 

able  quarter  where  the  Prescotts  lived;  until  he 
had  "treated"  a  number  of  the  gamins  of  the 
neighborhood  to  peanuts  and  ginger-snaps,  and 
had  cut  up  a  number  of  antics  besides.  When 
fairly  ready,  the  little  rascal  could  not  find  the 
letter,  but  was  not  honest  enough  to  make  known 
the  loss.  For  this  reason  Mrs.  Prescott  (as  we 
have  already  seen)  did  not  hear  from  Phoebe. 

Lest  it  might  be  thought  that  Miss  Thorpe's 
mode  of  life  was  dictated  by  parsimony,  the  reader 
should  know,  that,  though  the  lady  had  an  ample 
income,  she  spent  little  of  it  upon  herself;  and,  as 
she  kept  a  minute  account  of  every  day,  —  diary 
and  petty  cash-book  together,  —  the  entries  for  the 
day  just  closing  will  best  show  her  character. 

"MEM.  —  To  market:  beef,  thirty  cents;  bread,  ten 
cents;  one  pound  butter,  fifty  cents;  two  oranges,  ten 
cents.  Shoes  for  Bridget's  sister,  three  dollars.  Tickets  to 

Hertz's  Concert  (blind)  one  dollar.     'Loaned'  the  Rev. 

(a  good  man  and  bad  manager)  ten  dollars.     Gave 

Phoebe  for  spending-money  (till  she  earns  some)  five  dol- 
lars." 

All  the  pages  of  that  diary  show  a  like  dis- 
parity, —  a  linnet's  rations  for  herself,  the  bulk  of 
her  daily  expenditure  in  bounty  to  others. 

When  evening  came  Phoebe  was  shown  to  her 
chamber.  It  was  neatly  furnished  with  a  fine  old- 
fashioned  dressing-bureau,  easy-chairs  with  chintz 
covers,  and  handsome  curtains.  A  cool  and  pure 
air  pervaded  the  room,  renewed  by  a  swinging 


122  MAN  PROPOSES. 

window-pane  and  an  open  fireplace.  There  was  a 
portrait  in  oil  on  one  of  the  walls,  somewhat 
resembling  Miss  Thorpe,  though  younger  and 
rosier.  On  the  white  counterpane  were  a  wo- 
man's garments,  too  large  for  the  slender  hostess, 
and  apparently  made  for  a  fuller  and  statelier 
figure. 

In  spite  of  all  she  had  gone  through,  Pho?,be 
slept  peacefully.  The  face  in  the  portrait  smiled 
on  her  as  she  woke  ;  the  eyes  followed  her  as  she 
made  her  toilet,  and  put  away  the  delicate  cam- 
bric robes  she  had  worn ;  and  the  lips  pouted  out 
a  kiss  as  she  left  the  chamber. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  123 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  civil  war  had  been  for  some  time  in  prog- 
ress :  the  line  of  battle  stretched  half  across  the 
continent.  It  seems  now  like  a  hideous  night- 
mare to  recall  the  havoc  that  attended  those 
eventful  years.  The  alternations  of  hope  and 
despair,  the  continued  filling-up  of  shattered  regi- 
ments to  be  again  decimated,  the  capture  of  forts, 
the  loss  of  men-of-war,  the  awful  but  indecisive 
struggles  between  armies  such  as  no  European  cap- 
tain ever  led,  —  this  has  been  an  experience  which 
even  now  is  hardly  realized,  except  by  the  actors 
in  the  terrible  drama,  and  which  all  good  men 
must  hope  will  never  come  again  to  us,  nor  to 
our  children.  The  two  contending  sections  were 
equally  matched  in  muscle  and  endurance  ;  and,  if 
there  had  not  been  a  disparity  in  numbers  and  in 
resources,  the  struggle  might  have  been  protracted 
as  long  as  a  man  was  left  on  either  side  to  fire  a 
gun. 

The  first  alarm  called  off  the  adventurous,  the 
.unemployed,  the  ambitious.  As  the  war  went  on, 
the  plough  went  deeper  into  the  soil.  Men  of 
maturer  years  and  established  position  enlisted. 
Lawyers  and  judges,  merchants  and  gentlemen  of 


124  MAN  PROPOSES. 

leisure,  felt  the  solemn  call.  Studious  and  schol- 
arly men  listened  to  the  boding  drum-beat,  and  felt 
their  hearts  throbbing  in  response.  Silken  gallants 
left  their  clubs  and  their  social  pleasures,  and 
cantered  off  gayly  to  the  rendezvous  with  death. 

One  may  be  certain  that  the  excitement  was 
deep  and  pervading  when  a  youth  like  Roderick 
Prescott  was  ready  to  go  into  the  field,  and  con- 
tent himself  with  a  soldier's  fare.  However,  a 
good  number  from  his  club  had  already  gone. 
Some  were  still  in  service  as  staff  and  line  officers ; 
some  were  at  home  wounded;  some  were  recruit- 
ing ;  some  were  in  captivity ;  and  quite  as  many 
were  lying  under  Southern  soil.  Roderick  was 
naturally  brave,  and  the  thought  of  danger  was 
almost  an  attraction ;  but  he  had  never  before 
exhibited  so  much  activity  or  spirit.  He  knew 
that  his  acceptance  of  a  command  in  a  negro  regi- 
ment put  him  in  double  peril ;  because  the  enemy 
had  proclaimed  that  no  quarter  would  be  given  to 
the  colored  troops,  whether  officers  or  men.  Rod- 
erick had  not  chosen  this  service ;  but  at  the  time 
no  other  new  infantry  regiment  was  forming ;  and, 
as  for  the  old  regiments  in  service,  the  great  and 
wise  governor  rarely  gave  commissions  except  by 
promotion. 

Roderick,  like  the  majority  of  young  men  in 
society,  had  no  politics,  least  of  all  any  senti- 
mental politics.  His  company  consisted  of  so  mairy 
rows  of  machines  to  load  and  fire  muskets :  theii 
color  was  of  no  consequence.  There  were  othera 


MAN  PROPOSES.  125 

who  were  moved  by  AN  IDEA,  among  them,  con- 
spicuously the  hero  for  whom  Fort  Wagner  will 
stand  as  a  monument  forever.  Roderick  went 
into  training  with  eagerness.  It  is  astonishing 
how  much  can  be  done  in  a  short  time  by  one 
who  gives  his  whole  soul  to  the  task.  In  a  very 
few  days  he  mastered  the  elementary  facts  of  mili- 
tary discipline ;  and  then  he  followed  up  resolutely 
the  practice  of  a  sergeant,  a  lieutenant,  and  a 
captain.  The  great  hall  where  much  of  the  pre- 
liminary drill  went  on  was  his  home :  afterwards 
he  lived  in  the  suburban  camp  with  his  soldiers. 
Temperate,  earnest,  and  indefatigable,  he  ad- 
vanced in  knowledge  and  in  the  development  of  a 
soldier's  character,  till  he  won  the  admiration  of 
all.  There  was  no  talk  of  "blue  blood,"  nor  of 
"playing  soldier."  Every  man  who  handled  a 
musket  respected  this  severe  and  resolute  officer. 
The  stoutest  radical  had  to  admit  that  this  man  of 
birth  and  breeding,  with  soft  hands,  and  effemi- 
nate manners,  had  the  sturdy  Saxon  pluck  in  him. 
The  metamorphosis  of  the  dandy  into  the  officer 
was  complete. 

Mr.  Hugh  Prescott  was  the  person  most  aston- 
ished by  the  change.  He  had  frequently  visited 
the  armory,  and  afterwards  the  camp,  in  company 
with  his  stepson,  and  was  gratified  by  his  profi- 
ciency, and  proud  of  the  respect  he  saw  accorded 
to  him.  Roderick  was  so  much  occupied,  that  he 
had  little  time  for  his  mother's  society ;  but  his 
demeanor  towards  her  was  tender  arid  respectful. 


126  MAN  PROPOSES. 

She  gradually  became  accustomed  to  the  idea  of 
parting  from  him,  and  was  able  to  converse  with 
him  calmly;  and  she  devoted  her  time  to  the 
preparation  of  elegant  and  useless  conveniences 
which,  she  supposed  would  adorn  his  tent. 

Roderick's  opportunity  to  make  his  peace  with 
Phoebe  had  not  yet  come.  He  was  naturally  re- 
luctant to  make  his  apology  conspicuous  by  calling 
on  her  at  Miss  Thorpe's  house  ;  and  his  step-father, 
on  further  consideration,  had  thought  best  not  to 
insist  upon  the  girl's  return  until  after  the  regiment 
had  left  for  the  seat  of  war. 

Daily  the  town  was  stirred  up  by  the  beating 
of  drums ;  and  the  fife's  shrill  music  rose  over  the 
noise  of  the  streets.  Squads  of  serious,  eager  men, 
paraded,  carrying  the  beautiful  national  flag,  and 
followed  by  all  eyes  as  they  passed.  The  war 
was  a  tremendous  fact,  and  was  brought  home 
in  all  its  weight  and  terror  to  every  human  being. 
At  length  the  colored  regiment  was  filled  up,  the 
commissions  were  issued ;  and  Roderick,  who  had 
been  promised  a  captaincy,  was  appointed  major. 

The  day  came  when  the  regiment  was  to  leave 
for  the  seat  of  war.  A  stand  of  colors  was  to  be 
presented  by  the  State  authorities,  and  there  was 
to  be  a  review  and  a  glorious  "send  off."  The 
regimental  flag  had  been  made  by  ladies,  —  the 
mothers,  sisters,  and  wives  of  the  officers.  Quar- 
ter-masters and  commissaries  had  completed  their 
long  and  tedious  preparations.  The  line  was 
formed ;  and,  amid  the  long  roll  of  drums  and  the 


MAN  PROPOSES.  127 

piercing  notes  of  wind  instruments,  the  grand 
salute  was  given ;  and  while  a  thousand  muskets 
and  a  thousand  dark  faces  gleamed  at  "Present 
arms ! "  the  governor  and  staff  came  forward. 
With  them  came  a  great  orator  to  make  the  pres- 
entation speech,  —  a  man  somewhat  past  his  prime, 
but  still  in  the  maturity  of  his  brilliant  powers. 
He  took  the  silken  flag,  and  addressed  the  officers 
and  men.  His  voice  and  his  enthusiasm  rose  with 
the  occasion,  until  his  thoughts  took  form  in  glow- 
ing words.  He  touched  the  chords  that  have 
swayed  men  in  all  times.  His  face  was  pale,  in- 
spired by  great  thought  and  strong  emotion ;  and 
many  of  the  officers  shed  unwonted  tears  as  he 
finished.  Every  listener  fancied  himself  a  hero 
while  under  the  spell  of  this  eloquence. 

The  ceremony  was  over.  The  regiment  was 
allowed  half  an  hour's  recreation.  Arms  were 
stacked ;  and  soldiers  went  to  the  lines  in  the  rear 
to  say  a  good-by  to  wives,  daughters,  parents,  and 
brothers.  In  those  precious,  terrible  moments, 
what  agonies  of  love  and  anguish  were  suffered ! 
Of  the  thousand  brave  men  that  stood  at  the  lines, 
looking  forward  cheerfully  to  the  grim  future,  and 
soothing  the  grief  of  those  left  behind,  how  many 
now  are  wakened  to  any  music  !  Most  of  them  lie 
in  far  off-humble  graves,  many  without  a  stone, 
their  last  resting-places  known  only  to  the  infinite 
pitying  One. 

Meanwhile  the  officers,  their  friends,  and  the 
authorities,  were  to  meet  in  a  marquee  for  the  final 


128  MAN  PROPOSES. 

leave-taking.  The  marquee  was  pitched  on  the 
brow  of  a  gentle  hill  overlooking  the  parade- 
ground  ;  and  thousands  of  citizens  —  men  and 
women,  who  had  gathered  to  witness  the  thrilling 
scene  —  were  in  close  ranks  on  the  grass  near  by. 
The  officers  had  dismounted,  and  were  approach- 
ing the  line  against  which  the  multiude  swayed. 
Conspicuous  among  them  for  his  graceful  form 
and  soldierly  carriage  was  Major  Prescott.  His 
step-father  was  near  the  tent,  and  the  two  met  in 
silence  with  a  strong  hand-grasp. 

For  a  moment  neither  could  speak.  At  length 
the  elder,  pointing  to  the  tent,  said,  — 

"  Your  mother,  at  the  last  moment,  changed  her 
mind,  and  came." 

"She  is  here,  then?"  said  her  son.  He  was 
rather  sorry.  He  had  parted  with  her  in  the 
morning,  and  he  feared  a  scene. 

"  Let  us  not  sit  down  to  cry,"  said  Mr.  Prescott. 
"  We  don't  want  any  refreshment,  and  it  is  better 
to  pass  the  time  in  a  way  to  divert  your  mother's 
attention.  Go  to  her,  and  propose  a  walk  on  the 
parade-ground." 

The  suggestion  was  a  good  one.  The  young- 
man  hastily  collected  his  faculties,  and,  in  a  light 
and  jaunty  manner,  entered  the  tent,  and  ap- 
proached his  mother.  Taking  her  hand,  he  pro- 
posed to  saunter  about  in  the  open  air.  She 
looked  like  one  without  will  or  self-control.  Her 
face  told  of  unutterable  things.  She  took  her 
son's  arm,  and  the  three  walked  slowly  out  into 


MAN  PROPOSES.  129 

the  open  plain.  They  passed  for  some  distance 
along  the  line  without  speaking.  It  was  a  perfect 
day.  The  grass  was  a  beautiful  carpet,  and  the 
trees  around  were  still  in  their  freshest  robes  of 
green.  Suddenly  Roderick  was  aware  of  the  pres- 
ence of  persons  who  recognized  him.  Within 
arm's  length,  but  outside  the  line,  stood  Miss 
Thorpe  and  Phoebe.  He  was  surprised,  and  deep- 
ly moved.  The  elder  lady  wore  the  usual  pearl- 
gray  suit  of  silk,  and  a  bonnet  that  would  have 
become  a  fair  Quaker.  Phoebe,  whose  fine  classic 
features,  cream-tinted  complexion,  and  lustrous 
dark  hair,  made  her  so  conspicuously  beautiful, 
was  attired  in  a  gauzy  robe  that  it  would  be  pro- 
saic to  call  yellow,  but  which  borrowed  the  deli- 
cate hues  of  the  jessamine,  and,  where  the  folds 
hung  in  masses,  had  the  rich,  deep  color  of  the 
dandelion.  Her  ornaments  were  pale  coral.  She 
was  a  vision  such  as  nature  repeats  once  or  twice 
in  a  generation,  to  show  that  beauty  is  not  the 
creation  of  the  painter,  and  to  keep  alive  the  tra- 
dition of  the  golden  age.  So  might  Egeria  have 
appeared  to  the  ravished  Numa.  So  Clytie  looked, 
bursting  from  the  heart  of  the  sunflower.  So 
Diana  was  revealed  to  Endymion.  The  lover  re- 
creates the  past ;  and  nymphs,  naiads,  and  graces 
people  his  waking  dreams. 

It  takes  but  a  glance  to  sweep  over  these 
details.  But  Roderick  probably  did  not  see  them 
at  all,  but  only  perceived  the  harmony  and  the 
instant  total  impression.  His  position  was  most 


180  MAN  PROPOSES. 


painful.  He  -was  beset  with  difficulties.  He  felt 
that  he  really  ought  to  love  Phcebe,  in  spite  of 
the  wrong  he  had  done  her.  He  would  have 
fallen  on  his  knees  abjectly  to  ask  her  forgive- 
ness. This  was  his  only  opportunity.  But  there 
stood  his  mother,  and  there  was  the  placid  but 
vigilant  Miss  Thorpe.  The  mother  had  never 
known  of  the  indignity,  for  the  two  men  had 
kept  their  counsel. 

Mr.  Prescott  exclaimed,  "  Why,  Phcebe,  you 
wicked,  perverse  creature  !  Come  in  here  !  —  Rod- 
erick, let  the  guard  pass  the  ladies  in  !  —  Why,  you 
runaway,  you  naughty  girl !  you  have  broken  my 
heart.  —  My  respects  to  you,  Miss  Thorpe ;  but 
you  can't  love  this  ungrateful  darling  as  I  do. 
You  are  not  a  childless  old  man :  you  don't 
need  her."  He  apparently  was  determined  to 
admit  no  reply,  but  kept  the  reins  in  his  own 
hands,  and  went  on:  "To  think,  Phcebe,  that  I 
see  you  again,  and  looking  so  charming !  I  was 
.afraid  you  might  have  fared  ill.  God  only  knows 
what  might  have  happened  to  a  friendless  girl  in 
the  streets.  Now,  after  this  ceremony  is  over,  you 
will  go  back  with  us.  No  compulsion,  only  you 
must.  I  am  Sir  Anthony  to-day,  and  put  up  with 
no  nonsense." 

Mrs.  Prescott  meanwhile  had  seized  Phoebe's 
hand  with  fervor,  while  her  features  were  strug- 
gling with  hysterical  emotion.  Phcebe  scarcely 
uttered  a  word ;  and,  though  she  showed  in  her 
eyes  a  warm  affection,  the  color  mounted  to  her 


MAN  PROPOSES.  131 

face,  and  crimsoned  even  her  ivory  neck.  The 
memory  of  her  fierce  wrath  was  coming  back. 
Mrs.  Prescott  saw  this,  and  noticed,  too,  that  Rod- 
erick was  moody  and  silent.  She  did  not  cor- 
rectly interpret  the  scene.  In  her  opinion  Roder- 
ick had  proposed  marriage  to  Phcebe,  and  had 
been  rejected.  The  theory  received  confirmation 
in  her  mind  from  every  look  of  the  young  people. 
This,  then,  was  the  cause  of  Phoebe's  leaving  the 
house,  and  this  the  reason  why  her  darling  son 
was  going  to  the  war.  All  for  a  girl's  black  eyes 
he  was  going  away  to  be  shot.  She  had  not 
trusted  herself  to  speak,  but  kept  her  mouth 
rigidly  shut.  Her  breath  came  quicker.  The  tide 
of  feeling  swelled  higher,  and  surged  in  her  heart. 
More  and  more  her  expressive  features  told  of  the 
struggle  within.  It  could  end  in  but  one  way. 
She  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  passion  of  weep- 
ing, and  between  her  sobs  exclaimed,  "  O  Phrebe ! 
is  it  for  you,  that  I  am  going  to  lose  my  son  ?  " 

Her  husband  and  Roderick  in  vain  strove  to 
soothe  and  quiet  her.  The  current  could  not  be 
checked;  and  Mr.  Prescott,  not  to  imbitter  the 
little  time  remaining  with  unavailing  cries  and 
reproaches,  led  her  a  short  distance  away,  hoping 
that  she  would  recover  her  composure.  Roderick 
seized  the  moment,  unmindful  of  Miss  Thorpe, 
although  her  presence  colored  his  phrases,  and  put 
a  check  on  the  expression  of  his  feeling.  It  was 
an  effort  such  as  he  had  never  made  before. 

"Miss  Phcebe,"  said  he  in  a  tender  and  respect- 


132  MAN  PROPOSES. 

ful  tone,  "  I  am  going  away,  and  may  never 
return.  I  hope  for  the  best ;  but  I  know  the  risk, 
and  mean  to  face  it  without  fear.  I  wish  to  leave 
behind  me  in  the  memory  of  —  friends  —  a  —  I 
wish  them  to  think  of  me  as  one  whose  errors  — 
as  one  who  meant  better  than  he  sometimes  did. 
There  are  things  that  a  man  don't  forget,  can't 
forget,  can't  excuse  himself  for." 

Here  Miss  Thorpe  said  simply,  "  Phoebe,  if  you 
will  excuse  me,  I  think  I  will  join  Mrs.  Prescott." 

Roderick  was  properly  grateful ;  but  Phoebe 
was  less  so,  in  fact,  she  appeared  rather  annoyed. 

"  O  Phoebe  !  "  he  went  on,  "  you  have  come  to  a 
beautiful  womanhood  so  suddenly.  I  thought  of 
you  only  a  short  time  ago  as  a  schoolgirl :  now 
you  are  so  stately  in  your  ways.  I  can't  tell  you 
how  you  affect  me  as  I  am  with  you.  I  could 
worship  you.  But  when  you  are  away,  as  often  as 
I  try  to  think  of  you,  there  comes  a  cloud  over 
your  face,  —  I  see  you  turning  away  in  anger.  I 
confess  to  myself  that  your  anger  is  just ;  but  it 
kills  me.  There  are  things  I  should  like  to  wash 
out  with  my  tears;  and,  if  they  didn't  do  it,  I 
would  pour  out  my  blood." 

Phoebe  had  listened  pityingly.  She  was  think- 
ing more,  however,  of  the  distressed  mother,  and 
feeling  that  her  resentment  had  actually  driven 
the  young  man  to  despair. 

"•  Say  to  me  that  you  forgive  me,"  he  said. 

"  I  do  forgive  you,"  she  replied  solemnly ;  "  but 
to  forget  is  sometimes  out  of  our  power." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  133 

"  I  know,"  he  said  almost  bitterly.  "  But  when 
one  says,  '  I  forgive,  but  can't  forget,'  it  shows  that 
the  forgiveness  is  not  very  hearty." 

"  I  do  forgive  you,"  she  repeated,  "  and  I  shall 
try  to  think  of  you  as  you  are  to-day.  You 
won't  be  offended,  will  you,  if  I  say  you  haven't 
always  been  so?  It  isn't  the  fashion  for  young 
men  to  be  serious.  I  used  to  think  you  studied  to 
be  disagreeable,  it  was  such  a  thoughtless  manner 
you  affected.  This  is  the  time  for  truth,  and  you 
must  bear  it.  But  to-day,  Roderick,- — I  can't 
say —  You  are  like  another  man.  It  was  not 
this  Roderick  that  grieved  and  wounded  me." 

There  was  a  tremor  in  her  tones  that  he  inter- 
preted as  a  softening  of  her  feelings  towards  him. 
If  he  dared  ?  Yes,  he  must  follow  his  feelings,  or 
his  purpose,  or  both. 

"  Do  you  think,  after  all  you  have  suffered  on 
my  account,  if  you  really  believed  I  had  changed, 
and  had  become  what  you  wished,  —  do  you 
believe  your  feelings  would  change?  —  I  don't 
speak  of  respect  simply,  for  I  mean  to  deserve 
that,  —  but  to  any  warmer  regard  ?  " 

"  Roderick,"  she  said,  "  in  this  moment,  when 
you  have  so  much  to  think  of,  don't  you  think 
it  better  to  leave  this,  —  to  avoid  what  would 
pain  us  both  ?  " 

"  But  in  this  last  moment  I  am  selfish  enough 
to  want  to  speak  of  the  one  thing  that  is  dearer  to 
me  than  life." 

"  You  are  excited,  Roderick.     You  are  heartily 


134  MAN  PROPOSES. 

sorry,  I  can  see.  You  wish  to  atone  for  your 
wrong,  and  your  feelings  carry  you  beyond. — 
Isn't  it  enough  that  I  forgive  you  ?  " 

"  No,  Phoebe,  not  enough.  My  conscience  makes 
a  coward  of  me,  or  I  would  follow  this  up,  —  yes, 
I  would  take  your  hand,  and  lead  you  to  my 
father  and  mother.  I  would  not  let  you  go.  As 
it  is,  I  will  prove  my  sincerity  by  my  conduct.  I 
will  shed  my  blood  to  prove  it.  If  I  return, 
Phoebe,  I  shall  return  to  claim  you.  You  won't 
deny  me  ?  This  thought  will  comfort  me  in  tent, 
on  the  march,  in  the  battle.  Phoebe,  my  life 
belongs  to  you.  I  think  more  of  the  hope  of 
being  worthy  of  you  than  of  my  country  or  my 
God." 

This  vehemence  almost  overpowered  her.  She 
felt  strangely  perplexed.  She  did  not  doubt  his 
repentance,  although  she  could  not  in  her  heart 
thoroughly  trust  him.  She  did  not  wish  to  have 
him  go  away  feeling  that  he  had  not  been  for- 
given. She  was  quite  sure,  that,  but  for  his 
remorse  at  her  flight,  he  would  have  staid  at  home 
to  comfort  his  mother.  And  how  much  she  owed 
to  that  mother!  Should  she  send  him  away  in 
despair?  Like  most  women,  she  temporized. 

"  This  is  very  sudden,  Roderick.  I  can't  say 
that  I  am  sure  of  my  own  mind.  I  don't  know 
how  I  shall  feel  when  this  terrible  struggle  is  over, 
and  you  are  away.  I  sha'n't  forget  your  generous 
words.  I  shall  think  of  you,  and  pray  for  you.  I 
grieve  to  think  that  it  was  —  that  I  was  the  iimo- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  135 

cent  cause.  And  you  don't  know  how  your  moth- 
er's anguish  touched  me.  It  seems  that  I  am  your 
fate  —  and,  if  you  should  fall"  —  She  could  go 
on  no  farther. 

"  Let  me  hope  that  I  shall  live  for  you.  You 
must  pardon  my  mother.  She  is  unreasoning,  and 
to-day  there  is  but  one  subject  in  her  mind.  But, 
Phoebe,  don't  let  me  go  without  hope.  Pray 
return  home  with  my  mother  and  comfort  her ;  be 
a  daughter  to  her." 

"  If  she  asks  me,  I  will  return." 

"  Let  me  tell  her  something  to  make  her  cheer- 
ful,— tell  her  that  you  will  be  her  dear  daughter." 

Phcebe  shook  her  head.  "These  things  must 
shape  themselves :  we  can't  control  them." 

They  were  now  at  the  farthest  part  of  the 
parade-ground.  The  men  had  been  refreshed 
with  a  bountiful  collation,  and  were  getting  on 
their  knapsacks,  and  taking  their  guns.  All  about 
the  large  quadrangle  the  people  waited,  forming  a 
dense  background  for  the  moving  picture.  The 
officers  were  coming  out  of  the  marquee,  servants 
came  up  with  the  horses ;  and  then  the  thrilling 
tantara  of  the  trumpet  called  Roderick  from  his 
ideal  world. 

"  God's  will  be  done,  Phoebe  !  "  said  he.  "  I  can 
say  no  more.  Let  us  walk  rapidly  back.  Father 
and  mother  and  Miss  Thorpe  are  on  the  brow  of 
the  hill.  I  will  leave  you  with  them,  and  then"  — 

Phcebe  was  greatly  agitated.  Her  eyes  were 
misty,  and  she  almost  lost  her  footing  as  they 


136  MAN  PROPOSES. 

pressed  on.  Roderick's  servant  followed  him 
with  his  eyes  ;  arid,  by  the  time  the  family  met, 
the  horse  was  waiting.  He  flung  his  arm  about 
his  mother's  neck,  and  kissed  her,  bade  farewell 
stoutly  to  his  step-father,  shook  hands  with  Miss 
Thorpe,  and,  with  a  soul  full  of  anguish,  gave  a 
parting  hand-shake  to  Phoebe.  Mounting  his 
horse,  he  spurred  to  his  place  in  the  line. 

Shouts  arose  from  all  sides  of  the  quadrangle, 
tumultuous  and  incessant,  like  the  sound  of  waves. 
The  cannon  thundered ;  the  band  played  a  lively 
melody.  Flags  streamed  in  the  air,  and  white 
handkerchiefs  fluttered  on  every  side,  looking  in 
the  distance  like  white  blossoms  shaken  by  the 
wind.  Another  cannon  was  heard ;  then  all  was 
still.  The  line  was  formed.  The  adjutant  re- 
ported. The  colonel  shouted  the  order  to  forward. 
Then,  amid  roars  of  cheers,  the  drums  and  fifes 
struck  up,  —  sounds  once  inspiring  to  us,  but  now 
associated  with  all  that  is  terrible  in  war.  The 
line  broke  into  platoons ;  and  with  a  steady  step 
the  — th  regiment  passed  from  the  beautiful  field 
to  the  wharf  where  the  transport  steamer  lay. 
What  the  men  felt,  few  returned  to  tell ;  but  every 
spectator  struggled  with  a  lump  in  his  throat,  and 
from  men  and  women  alike  there  was  a  sudden 
gush  of  tears  like  Tain. 

They  were  black  men  going  to  fight  for  a 
country  in  which  they  had  no  part,  —  a  country 
in  which  they  were  aliens  and  strangers. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  137 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  sound  of  the  drums  was  dying  away  in  the 
distance,  and  the  crowd  had  mostly  dispersed  ;  but 
Mrs.  Prescott  remained  in  the  marquee  half  uncon- 
scious, and  sobbing  hysterically.  A  consultation 
was  had,  and  it  was  determined  that  Phoabe  should 
for  this  day  return  with  Miss  Thorpe,  but  should 
shortly  revisit  her  home  when  Mrs.  Prescott  was 
restored.  By  the  help  of  a  policeman,  Mr.  Pres- 
cott got  a  carriage  for  his  wife.  Miss  Thorpe  and 
Phoabe  preferred  to  walk. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  they  were  admit- 
ted by  Mrs.  Maloney,  who  explained  that  she  was 
keeping  house  while  her  sister  Bridget  was  gone 
to  see  the  soldiers.  Mrs.  Maloney  was  overjoyed 
to  meet  her  darling  Phoebe,  whom  she  had  seen 
but  seldom  since  Mrs.  Prescott  took  charge  of 
her. 

The  scenes  of  the  day  had  been  very  trying  to 
Phoebe.  Continually  rang  in  her  ears  the  ago- 
nized  cry  of  Mrs.  Prescott,  "  It  te  for  you  that  I 
have  lost  my  son  ;  "  while  in  her  fancy  endless  files 
of  men  in  blue,  with  glittering  arms,  marched  to 
the  sound  of  drum  and  fife,  and  handsome  officers 
led  the  way  to  death  or  glory. 


138  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Her  whole  being  throbbed  with  the  fierce 
excitement.  She  thought  of  Mr.  Prescott's  fa- 
therly kindness,  and  of  his  wife's  unaffected  good- 
ness towards  her  for  so  many  years,  and  the  debt 
of  gratitude  seemed  beyond  reckoning.  In  Rod- 
erick's repentance  she  had  forgiven  his  fault.  As 
fire  burns  out  plague,  she  believed  love  had  con- 
sumed the  old  lawless  impulses.  Roderick  was 
a  hero.  He  would  come  back  as  famous  as  his 
great-grandfather  the  admiral.  And  what  then  ? 
That  made  her  pause.  For  he  was  coming  for  her : 
so  he  said.  Did  she  love  him  ?  She  pitied  him 
for  his  sufferings,  for  his  self-abasement,  and  for 
his  mother's  sake  :  beyond  this  she  did  not  con- 
sciously go. 

Miss  Thorpe  asked  no  questions  about  her  inter- 
view on  the  parade-ground  with  Roderick ;  for  she 
saw  that  the  girl  was  sorely  troubled.  But  Phoebe 
volunteered  the  remark  that  Major  Prescott  had 
been  rude  to  her  on  an  occasion,  but  that  he  had 
apologized,  and  she  had  forgiven  him.  To  relate 
this  was  easier  than  to  be  cross-examined. 

When  supper  was  over,  Miss  Thorpe,  desiring 
to  change  the  current  of  thought,  said,  "  Phoebe,  I 
suppose  Mrs.  Maloney  seems  something  like  a 
mother  to  you,  and  perhaps  you  would  like  to 
have  her  come  in  for  a  while.  Do  you  remember 
your  own  mother  ?  " 

"I  scarcely  remember  her.  There  is  a  faint 
recollection  of  a  delicate  woman  with  creamy  com- 
plexion and  great  melancholy  black  eyes,  not 


MAN  PROPOSES.  139 

quite  so  tall  as  I  am,  looking  quite  ill  and 
dejected.  This  is  the  way  it  comes  to  me ;  but 
the  image  is  faint,  and,  as  it  were,  distant.  I 
should  like  to  see  Mrs.  Maloney;  though  1  have 
never  got  much  from  her.  She  doesn't  even 
know  my  mother's  full  name.  She  thinks  my 
father  died  while  I  was  a  babe." 

"•Then  she  had  seen  your  father?'" 

"  I  think  not,  but  am  not  sure.  Certainly  she 
had  heard  about  him." 

"  You  have  no  memento,  or  relic  of  them  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"It  may  not  be  very  important  to  your  future 
life,  for  that  must  lie  much  in  the  sphere  of  your 
own  will ;  but  it  is  a  pardonable  curiosity  to  know 
the  source  of  one's  being,  the  ancestral  traits  and 
tendencies.  One  of  your  parents  was  musical,  I 
suppose." 

"  Oh,  yes !  my  mother.  There  is  a  sound  that 
comes  to  my  ears  when  I  think  of  her,  —  a  low, 
sweet  tremulous  tone,  a  cradle-song  that  was  wor- 
ship and  lullaby  both.  I  imagine  it  a  hymn  to  the 
Virgin,  and  a  mother's  blessing  blended  with  it." 

Mrs.  Maloney  came  in,  and  went  over  the  sad 
story  she  had  so  many  times  repeated  to  Phcebe. 
It  was  little  she  knew.  A  friendless  woman  with 
a  young  child  —  with  a  sweet  and  sorrowful  face, 
and  a  slight  foreign  accent  in  her  speech,  with 
manners  that  belong  only  to  a  lady  —  had  hired  a 
room  in  a  large  tenement-house.  She  had  a  name 
which  the  good  simple  woman  could  not  catch,  and 


140  MAN  PROPOSES. 

therefore  could  not  now  remember.  The  forlorn 
mother  had  picked  out  the  stitched  letters  on  her 
handkerchief:  evidently  she  was  covering  her 
traces.  No  one  came  to  see  her,  not  one,  until,  as 
she  fell  sick,  the  city  physician  attended  her.  She 
left  not  a  single  letter.  Her  few  clothes  (only  a 
small  trunk  full),  Mrs.  Maloney  was  fain  to  sell 
to  get  money  to  help  support  the  child ;  for  the 
good  woman  took  the  child  as  her  own,  and 
bestowed  upon  her  all  a  mother's  love.  It  was 
about  all  she  had  to  bestow,  except  a  share  in  the 
milk,  bread,  and  potatoes  she  earned  by  washing. 
As  time  wore  on,  Mrs.  Maloney  began  to  think  that 
the  girl,  who  should  have  been  a  lady,  ought  to 
go  to  school,  and  ought,  in  fact,  to  have  a  "bring- 
ing up  "  beyond  what  a  poor  woman  like  herself 
could  give  her.  Providence  led  Mrs.  Prescott  that 
way;  and,  as  she  proposed  to  take  and  educate 
the  girl,  the  heroic  woman  gave  her  up,  though 
it  almost  broke  her  heart  to  do  it. 

"You  knew  the  child's  name?"  asked  Miss 
Thorpe. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Her  mother  called  her  Phayba  ;  and, 
besides,  she  had  written  out  all  her  names  some- 
where in  a  book." 

"What  was  the  book?" 

"  A  mass-book." 

"  In  English  ?  " 

"  No :  in  such  as  the  priest  talks.  They  call  it 
Latin,  I  b'lieve." 

"  And  what  became  of  that  book  ?  " 


MAN  PROPOSES.  141 

"  It  was  sold  with  the  mother's  clothes,  and  I 
disremember  who  to." 

Miss  Thorpe  took  the  woman  into  the  library, 
and,  pointing  to  various  books,  got  her  to  designate 
the  shape,  size,  and  style  of  binding.  It  is  need- 
less to  say  that  Mrs.  Maloney  was  not  a  connois- 
seur; but  Miss  Thorpe  finally  got  hints  enough  to 
make  it  probable  that  it  was  a  prayer-book  in 
Latin  or  Italian,  eighteen  mo,  gilt-edged,  though 
worn,  bound  in  black  morocco,  with  a  clasp.  Such 
a  book,  she  meditated,  would  not  probably  have 
been  destroyed.  It  was  likely  to  be  in  existence. 
And  in  it  was  Phrebe's  full  name  !  Perhaps  it  was 
in  some  second-hand  bookstore,  or  in  the  hands 
of  some  collector  of  curiosities. 

Dismissing  Mrs.  Maloney  with  thanks,  and  some- 
thing more,  she  said,  "  That  book  must  be  found." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  it  is  a  hopeless  task,"  said 
Phcebe." 

"  Nothing  is  hopeless.  I  will  advertise  it ;  offer 
a  handsome  reward,  that  will  cause  a  search  to  be 
made." 

Phoabe  only  looked  gloomy  and  thoughtful. 

"  Your  poor  mother !  "  continued  Miss  Thorpe. 
"Do  you  know  I  think  we  shall  find  she  was  a 
singer,  perhaps  a  great  one,  certainly  beautiful 
and  cultivated;  that  she  married  some  man  of 
fashion  who  mistreated  her;  that  his  friends  cast 
them  off;  that,  after  he  died,  she  was  broken  in 
spirit  and  in  fortune  ?  That  is  the  way  with  sing- 
TS.  Emotional  beings,  they  surrender  will,  for- 


142  MAN  PROPOSES. 

tune,  life  itself,  to  a  transient  impulse.  They 
marry  badly :  their  husbands  always  live  on  their 
earnings,  and  love  them  only  while  flowers  and  dia- 
monds are  plenty,  and  the  career  of  success  contin- 
ues. You  have  noticed  the  picture  in  your  room  ? 
That  is  the  portrait  of  my  sister,  —  my  half- 
sister  I  should  say.  The  sketch  I  have  drawn  for 
your  mother  was  substantially  that  sister's  history. 
It  is  the  common  fate  of  those  bright  creatures. 
Her  clothes  are  in  your  wardrobe  ;  you  have  no- 
ticed their  size.  She  was  not  a  thin,  insignificant 
creature  like  me.  Her  beautiful  night-dresses 
you  have  worn ;  and  this  rich  yellow  tissue  you 
are  wearing  was  hers.  But  my  poor  sister,  so  we 
heard,  was  never  blessed  (or  burdened)  with  a 
child.  She  went  abroad,  and  died  there.  I  don't 
know  where  her  body  rests.  We  have  only  her 
beautiful  image  here.  At  one  time  she  was  com- 
ing home,  so  it  was  said,  and  a  trunk  came  with  a 
portion  of  her  clothes." 

Phoebe  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  sympathy.  The 
story  was  full  of  pain  to  her ;  yet  she  could  not 
keep  her  mind  upon  it,  for  every  moment  the 
thought  of  Mrs.  Prescott's  sharp  cry  returned,  and 
she  saw  the  writhing  muscles  that  told  of  the 
mother's  agony.  Yes,  she  had  driven  the  young 
man  away :  she  had  made  her  protectors  wretch- 
ed for  life. 

Miss  Thorpe's  face  was  a  study  while  she 
touched  lightly  on  these  sacred  topics.  She 
seemed  a  being  all  nerve,  resolve,  and  will,  yet 


MAN  PROPOSES.  143 

the  most  delicate  and  womanly  of  women  since 
Eve.  One  could  but  wonder  if  she  were  utterly 
cold  on  the  physical  side  of  her  nature ;  if  her 
intellect  were  really  built  up  of  geometrical  fig- 
ures, like  the  architecture  of  the  frost,  in  perfect 
symmetry,  capable  of  sustaining  itself,  and  proving 
its  right  to  be,  and  finished  with  a  Q.  E.  D.  at  the 
pinnacle. 

Phoebe,  beside  this  statue  of  reasoning  alabas- 
ter, reminded  one  of  a  tropical  plant  in  blossom. 
But  whoever  looked  at  Phoebe  twice  saw  that  the 
luxuriance  of  nature  in  her  had  no  element  of 
weakness,  none  of  the  soft  over-ripeness  that  be- 
longs to  the  Helens  and  Cleopatras.  The  elderly 
maiden  received  the  homage  due  to  pure  intel- 
lect. Phoebe  was  indescribably  attractive  :  every 
one  who  saw  her  was  her  slave  from  the  first. 
But  both  equally  commanded  respect,  and  seemed 
equally  entitled  to  the  most  chivalrous  service. 

"I  rather  dread  to  meet  Mrs.  Prescott,"  said 
Phoebe,  "and  I  want  you  to  go  with  me.  Her 
reproaches  I  cannot  bear.  I  left  her  house  — 
because  —  because  it  was  hard  to  keep  self-respect. 
I  could  not  help  it  if  her  son  wished  to  make  him- 
self unhappy  about  me,  and  did  not  wish  to  be 
myself  unhappy  about  him.  But  he  seemed  very 
different  when  he  went  away.  Truly,  Miss 
Thorpe,  at  the  last,  he  was  grand." 

"I  can  imagine,"  said  Miss  Thorpe  reflectively, 
"as  a  gay  young  person,  he  has  had  no  motives 
but  selfishness  and  vanity.  There  is  a  refined 


144  MAN  PROPOSES. 

cruelty  in  all  that  they  call  good-breeding.  One 
grasp  of  a  backwoodsman's  hand  such  as  I  had 
when  I  left  the  Adirondacks  is  worth  all  the  cool 
and  polished  civilities  that  we  meet  here  in  a 
whole  season.  But  the  simpering  dandy  face  to 
face  with  terrible  realities  is  coerced  or  frightened 
into  downright  sincerity.  As  the  young  men  say, 
it  drives  the  nonsense  out,  this  preparing  to  meet, 
man  to  man,  foot  to  foot,  steel  to  steel.  Yes,  war 
is  a  terrible  teacher ;  but  useful  lessons  are  taught. 
Perhaps  it  was  worth  while,  even  if  that  fop  should 
be  killed,  to  have  lived  a  month  of  pure  manliness. 
I  am  not  hard.  I  know  he  is  a  sorrowing  mother's 
son ;  but  every  one  who  takes  the  chances  of  bat- 
tle is  some  mother's  son.  But  I  will  go  with  you : 
we  will  see  how  she  stands.  If  there  is  any  thing, 
—  the  least '  if,'  —  you  will  return  with  me.  And, 
my  dear  Phcsbe,  whatever  she  may  say,  I  don't 
wish  to  give  you  up  altogether.  I  am  not  so 
young  as  I  was.  I  begin  to  feel  that  I  want  to 
sun  myself,  as  old  people  do,  in  the  light  of  some 
young  face.  I  want  you  to  stay  with  me  as 
much  as  you  can.  We  will  make  a  compromise. 
You  shall  be  the  light  of  two  sunless  houses  by 
turns." 

"  My  dearest  friend,"  said  Phoebe,  "  I  am  grate- 
ful, believe  me,  not  only  for  your  kindness,  but 
for  the  strength  you  give  me.  Your  thoughts  in- 
spire me.  I  have  learned  much  with  you  that  I 
can  never  forget.  I  am  not  quick,  like  you,  and  I 
don't  keep  up  with  your  thoughts;  but  I  know 


MAN  PROPOSES.  145 

you  will  forgive  me.  I  must  be  myself — I  can't 
pretend  —  and  I  do  love  music  —  and  I  love  my 
grand  old  teacher  —  and  I  want  to  see  him.  I 
want  to  pour  out  my  soul  sometimes.  How  would 
the  bird  feel  if  he  were  shut  up,  and  told  not  to 
sing?  It  is  emotion,  I  know;  but  I  have  the  emo- 
tion, although  you  think  it  is  unworthy ;  arid  the 
emotion  belongs  to  me,  it  is  me.  I  wish  I  had  a 
piano  this  moment.  Isn't  it  better  to  sing  than  to 
cry  ?  And  I  am  so  full  of  trouble  —  and  I  don't 
know  how  to  bear  it;  and,  if  I  could  sing,  my 
soul  would  rise  on  wings.  Is  it  wrong?  Then 
why  did  God  give  me  a  voice,  and  sympathy,  and 
a  soul  to  delight  in  music  ?  " 

"  You  are  eloquent  when  your  feelings  prompt 
you,  and  I  cannot  blame  you  for  insisting  on 
being  yourself.  The  Master,  who  forbade  us  to 
look  for  grapes  from  thorns,  or  figs  from  thistles, 
knew  that  I  should  love  philosophy  and  you  music. 
Be  it  so.  But  yet  I  would  try  to  save  you  from 
the  dreadful  trials  and  temptations  of  a  public 
career.  My  dear  Phoebe,  sing,  if  you  must  (I  see 
it  is  pleasure,  worship,  life  itself,  to  you),  but  sing 
to  me,  to  Mrs.  Prescott,  and  your  other  friends. 
Shun  the  intoxication  of  public  applause.  It 
exhilarates,  but  maddens.  It  unfits  one  who  has 
felt  it  for  the  repose  of  domestic  life.  Save  your 
s,weetest  notes  for  him  whom  you  are  to  love.  A. 
song  to  your  husband  (provided  he  is  worth  sing- 
ing to),  or  a  lullaby  to  your  first-born  in  a  cradle, 
is  something  nobler  than  the  greatest,  efforts  of 
the  bejewelled  prima  donna." 


146  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Phoebe  hardly  felt  able  to  grapple  with  this 
topic  as  she  would.  She  thought  that  this  was 
rather  a  stern  repression.  "Because  I  arn  a 
woman,"  she  said,  "am  I  to  be  silent  when  the 
Creator  has  given  me  power  to  sing?  Will  you 
say  to  the  artist,  '  Paint  only  for  your  wife '  ? 
Should  Longfellow  sing  only  to  his  children  ?  " 

"I  know,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Thorpe,  "that 
my  single  life  might  be  turned  against  me.  I 
have  never  known  the  feeling  that  would  make 
me  desire  to  surrender  my  personality,  or  blend  it 
with  that  of  another.  I  have  spoken  of  emotions 
before.  This  is  one  of  them.  If  I  had  ever  felt 
it,  I  would  have  trampled  it  out.  But,  for  my  sex 
in  general,  I  see  their  duty  and  their  destiny. 
They  are  to  be  wives  and  mothers.  They  are  to 
create  homes.  Now,  though  there  may  be  excep- 
tions, I  must  take  ground  against  any  pursuit  or 
aspiration  that  tends  to  disqualify  woman  for  the 
great  function  of  maternity.  Of  what  a  public 
career  does  in  this  respect  we  have  unhappily  too 
much  evidence." 

"  But  suppose  one  has  the  inspiration  and  the 
art?" 

"  Then  she  should  consider  whether  she  has  the 
strength  to  renounce  marriage  and  motherhood. 
If  she  can  live  for  her  art,  she  may  be  spotless. 
But,  my  dear,  we  know  what  temperaments  and 
faculties  are  joined.  Tell  me,  have  you  ever 
known  a  great  singer  that  was  not  emotional,  — 
greatly  so  ?  The  voice  that  breathes  the  song  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  147 

passion  belongs  to  the  heart  that  craves  love. 
Philosophical  people  don't  sing."  Here  Miss 
Thorpe  turned  over  a  volume  of  Buckle  merrily, 
and  read  aloud  some  half-dozen  abstruse  sen- 
tences. 

"  Fancy  a  woman  reading  that,  and  then  shriek- 
ing, '  Involami,  t'amo,  t'amo '  /  " 

But  Phoebe  said  she  was  not  fixed  upon  making 
singing  a  profession,  nor  did  she  feel  sure  she 
should  ever  marry.  This  with  a  rather  innocently 
grave  tone. 

"  Oh,  yes !  you  will  marry,"  said  Miss  Thorpe, 
looking  with  almost  a  lover's  delight  over  the 
girl's  sweet  reserved  face  and  eloquent  eyes,  and 
noting  the  whole  atmosphere  of  attraction  that 
surrounded  her.  "  You  will  marry.  It  requires 
no  witch  or  fortune-teller  to  predict  that.  If  in 
no  other  way,  some  one  will  carry  you  off  a  Sa- 
bine  captive.  But  we  won't  go  on  with  this. 
You  are  fatigued,  I  see,  and  have  much  to  think 
upon.  I  will  read  Spencer  a  while,  and  you  can 
look  in  the  evening  paper  for  the  roster  of  the 
— th  regiment." 

Miss  Thorpe  wheeled  a  chair  to  the  centre- 
table  and  was  soon  buried  in  philosophy.  Phoebe 
skimmed  the  newspaper,  then  walked  about, 
noticing  the  stately  rows  of  books  in  rich  bind- 
ings, the  busts  on  corner  brackets,  and  the  superb 
head  of  Pallas  over  the  central  bookcase,  on 
which  no  boding  raven  nor  Promethean  vulture 
had  ever  perched.  She  was  soon  tired,  and  went 


148  MAN  PROPOSES. 

to  her  room.  The  portrait,  unchanging  in  its 
loveliness,  looked  down  on  the  beautiful  girl,  and 
seemed  to  send  a  good-night  across  the  darkening 
room. 

The  moment  she  closed  her  eyes,  there  were 
endless  files  of  soldiers  passing ;  officers  spurred 
oil  with  orders,  drums  beat,  colors  waved,  and 
cannons  roared.  Then  the  scene  was  changed. 
There  was  a  vast  amphitheatre  of  hills  enclosing 
a  battle-ground.  White  specks  of  tents  dotted 
the  green  slopes  near  the  borders  of  the  woods. 
White  pufflets  of  smoke  rose  from  the  distant 
earth-works  where  the  cannon  were  planted. 
Cavalry  rode  into  the  dense  clouds  of  dust  in 
the  central  plain.  Long  thin  lines  of  infantry 
were  posted  on  every  vantage-ground,  keeping  up 
incessant  fire.  Over  all  rose  an  awful  din,  as  if 
every  sound  of  horror,  rage,  and  pain,  had  blend- 
ed. Phoebe  looked  and  shivered,  and  could  not 
look  away.  Mrs.  Prescott  was  beside  her,  and 
evermore  asked,  "  Was  it  for  you  that  I  have  lost 
my  son  ? "  Then  this  vision  faded.  Untold 
leagues  of  country  swept  by ;  and  she  saw  a  man, 
in  the  rags  of  a  uniform,  sunburnt,  torn  by  briers, 
now  skulking  among  bushes,  skirting  water- 
courses, and  now  on  a  log  drifting  towards  the 
sea.  His  face  was  averted  from  her,  and  he 
floated  away.  Then  she  walked  through  a  hospi- 
tal. Pale  faces  on  every  side,  dying  and  dead, 
and  still  the  line  of  white  beds  stretched  inter- 
minably. Once  or  twice  she  saw  Major  Roderick, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  149 

but  at  a  distance,  his  arm  in  a  sling.  Before  she 
got  near  where  he  had  stood,  there  was  a  vacancy ; 
and  then,  while  her  flesh  crept  with  terror,  she 
looked  around  only  to  see  Mrs.  Prescott  follow- 
ing her,  and  again  exclaiming,  "Was  it  for  you 
that  I  have  lost  my  son?"  Then  came  a  trans- 
port of  wounded  men.  A  bright  torch  flashed  at 
the  landing  to  show  the  bearers  of  the  stretchers 
where  to  step.  At  this  new  agony  Phoebe  could 
bear  it  no  longer,  and  screamed. 

Gentle  Miss  Thorpe  stood  at  her  bedside  with  a 
light ;  though  it  was  some  time  before  the  fright- 
ened girl  could  collect  her  faculties,  and  be  sure 
that  she  had  been  dreaming.  "  I  heard  you  moan- 
ing, Phoebe,"  she  said,  "and  guessed  the  cause. 
You  have  had  a  terrible  strain  to-day.  I  will  give 
you  these  little  pellets.  You  will  soon  be  tran- 
quil. Bridget  shall  draw  a  couch  into  your  room, 
and  sleep  near  you;  and  you  can  have  a  taper 
burning  if  you  choose."  Phoebe  was  too  much 
exhausted  by  her  ideal  terrors  to  say  more  than  a 
few  words.  Her  face  was  pale,  and  her  brow  cov- 
ered with  perspiration.  The  hour  of  troubled 
sleep  was  an  age  of  suffering.  Bridget  bathed 
her  face,  and  rubbed  her  hands,  and  she  was  soon 
in  a  gentle,  dreamless  slumber. 

Miss  Thorpe  concluded  that  she  did  not  know 
all  that  was  passing  in  Phoebe's  mind,  and  she 
pondered  how  she  might  change  the  painful  cur- 
rent of  feeling. 


150  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Miss  THORPE  waited  anxiously  to  observe 
Phoebe  at  breakfast ;  for  it  was  evident  that  some 
deep  grief  or  burden  rested  on  her  mind.  Phoebe 
came  down,  looking  rather  pale,  but  cheerful,  and 
expressed  regret  that  her  haunting  dreams  had 
caused  so  much  disturbance  ;  but  she  added,  that, 
as  women  could  not  fight,  they  must  have  their 
share  of  distress  in  some  way.  Miss  Thorpe  began 
to  see  that  the  girl  had  something  of  the  heroic 
in  her  nature,  that  her  imagination  was  active, 
and  that,  more  than  all,  there  was  something  in 
the  recesses  of  thought  as  yet  undeveloped. 

But  Miss  Thorpe  did  not  once  allude  to  the 
handsome  young  officer,  nor  to  the  interview  of  the 
preceding  day.  She  consented  to  go  with  Phoebe 
to  see  Mrs.  Prescott,  but  suggested  that  she 
should  afterwards  take  her  music,  and  pay  a  visit 
to  her  old  teacher.  This  was  the  concession  she 
made  in  the  hope  that  her  coveted  amusement 
would  be  the  means  of  bringing  the  high-spirited 
girl  nearer  to  the  ordinary  level  of  life. 

They  were  received  cheerfully,  but  with  an 
unusual  earnestness,  by  Mr.  Prescott,  who  had  lin- 
gered that  morning  to  console  his  wife.  He  was 


MAN  PROPOSES.  151 

in  the  back-parlor  near  to  the  conservatory,  smok- 
ing fiercely,  and  chewing  the  end  of  his  cigar,  as 
was  his  habit  when  disturbed.  The  morning 
paper  lay  beside  him  unread.  Seeing  Miss 
Thorpe,  and  knowing  her  aversion  to  tobacco,  he 
dropped  his  cigar,  and  made  himself  wretched 
for  her  sake.  There  was  so  much  to  be  said  about 
the  late  events  that  he  did  not  know  where  to 
begin.  He  concluded  to  wait ;  and,  learning  that 
a  call  on  Signer  Belvedere  was  proposed,  he  in- 
vited both  Miss  Thorpe  and  Phoebe  to  return  to 
dinner,  and  thought,  that,  in  the  evening,  he  could 
have  his  intended  explanation  with  the  runaway. 

Presently  Mrs.  Prescott  entered  from  her  ora- 
tory, all  in  robes  of  white,  and  with  her  beautiful 
hair  negligently  disposed  under  a  lace  cap.  But 
her  grief  was  real,  if  her  dress  and  manner  were 
studied.  She  came  forward  slowly,  with  the  port 
of  Lady  Macbeth  in  the  sleep-walking  scene,  and 
extended  coldly  a  white  hand  to  Phcebe  and  to 
Miss  Thorpe  in  silence.  Her  tears  had  been  dried, 
and  she  wore  the  look  of  one  who  trusted  to  no 
earthly  consolation. 

"  I  have  but  one  thing  to  live  for  now,"  she  said, 
*'  and  that  is  to  pray  for  our  dear  sons  in  the  field." 

"  Oh,  pshaw  !  "  said  Mr.  Prescott.  "  Better  live 
to  work  for  them,  and  to  help  their  widows  and 
sweethearts  and  children." 

Mrs.  Prescott  looked  unutterable  things. 

Miss  Thorpe  said  she  trusted  Mrs.  Prescott  would 
now  become  interested  in  the  Sanitary  Commis- 
sion. 


152  MAN  PROPOSES. 


"  I  have  subscribed  for  tracts  and  Bibles  to  be 
sent  to  the  army,"  said  Mrs.  Prescott  solemnly. 

u  Tracts  and  Bibles  are  well  enough,"  said  her 
husband ;  "  but  the  poor  fellows  in  hospitals  also 
need  shirts  and  biscuit  and  tea  and  brandy." 

u  Yes,"  added  Miss  Thorpe ;  "  and  the  best 
friends  of  the  soldiers  say  they  have  better  suc- 
cess in  touching  their  hearts  after  carrying  a  sup- 
ply of  good  food  and  clothing." 

" '  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  heaven  and  its 
righteousness,'  "  said  Mrs.  Prescott. 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  "  said  Mr.  Prescott,  "  the  people 
that  Christ  said  that  to  hadn't  been  shot  to  pieces. 
They  didn't  need  bandages  and  gruel  and  nurs- 
ing. I  can't  believe  he  wouldn't  do  just  what /we 
do  in  the  hospitals,  and  give  a  meal  to  the  hungry 
soldiers,  and  a  dressing  for  their  wounds,  before 
he  plied  them  with  tracts.  The  kingdom  of 
heaven,  with  all  due  respect,  wants  a  physical 
basis." 

"  But  we  won't  make  a  discussion  now,"  said 
Miss  Thorpe.  "  When  you  are  sufficiently  recov- 
ered, Mrs.  Prescott,  we  will  go  to  the  rooms  of 
the  society,  and  you  will  see  what  we  are  doing, 
and  learn  the  results  of  our  work." 

"  I  have  asked  Miss  Thorpe  and  Phoebe  to  dine 
with  us,"  said  Mr.  Prescott,  "  and  the  protocol  is 
signed.  It  waits  for  your  approval,  my  dear." 

Mrs.  Prescott  expressed  her  pleasure,  and,  hav- 
ing bowed  courteously  to  Miss  Thorpe,  turned  a 
half-searching,  "half-tender  glance  upon  Phoebe. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  153 

The  poor  girl,  who  still  shivered  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  last  night's  dreams,  looked  as  if  she 
expected  to  hear  once  more  the  agonizing  ques- 
tion, "  Was  it  by  you  that  I  lost  my  son  ?  " 

Miss  Thorpe  saw  that  there  was  no  prospect  of 
much  genial  conversation,  and  soon  rose  to  go, 
saying  cheerily  that  her  pensioners  and  constitu- 
ents were  doubtless  wondering  at  her  neglect. 

As  soon  as  she  left  the  room,  the  reason  of  Mr. 
Prescott's  disturbed  state  of  mind  became  mani- 
fest. He  took  out  a  letter  he  had  just  received 
from  his  former  clerk  Amory,  and  glanced  over  it. 
The  first  pages  referred  to  the  repairs  upon  the 
house  in  Eaglemont,  suggested  in  a  conversation 
mentioned  in  a  former  chapter.  That  portion  he 
did  not  read  to  his  wife. 

"  I  have  a  letter  here  from  Amory,"  he  said,  — 
"  a  fine  fellow,  by  the  way,  —  written  at  our  old 
home  in  the  country.  He  is  going  West,  but 
took  Eaglemont  on  his  way,  —  or  out  of  his  way. 
My  niece,  I  fancy,  was  the  magnet.  The  part 
that  will  interest  you  I  will  read."  And  he  read, 
with  occasional  comments  and  shrugs  and  expres- 
sive but  inarticulate  sounds :  '"I  have  had  a 
delightful  time  here,  especially  in  going  to  various 
points  on  the  hills  to  see  the  scenery'  —  yes,  espe- 
cially in  the  scenery.  '  We  see  mountains  in  three 
States,  —  those  on  the  north  standing  like  walls  of 
faint  blue,  and  those  on  the  south  resting  on  the 
horizon's  verge  like  masses  of  purple  and  gray. 
Your  charming  niece  has  been  my  guide  and  com- 


154  MAN  PROPOSES. 

panion,'  —  of  course !  — '  and  has  shared  and  dou- 
bled my  pleasure.  I  have  learned  that  her  brother 
Robert  has  just  made  a  flying  visit  here,  and,  from 
various  scattered  hints,  I  am  sure  he  was  a  heart- 
broken man.  It  seems  that  he  had  a  grand  pas- 
sion.' I  did  not  know  that  clergymen  were 
affected  that  way :  I  thought  such  desperate 
attacks  were  confined  wholly  to  the  laity.  'But 
the  lady  was  unkind,  and  he  is  in  despair.  He 
bade  his  father  and  mother  and  sister  farewell, 
told  them  they  would  hear  of  him  in  India,  or 
China,  or  in  some  other  heathen  country.'  This 
is  quite  extraordinary,  unclerical,  to  be  so  put 
back  for  a  woman.  'The  family  are  in  doleful 
dumps.  They  don't  know  who  the  lady  is,  and 
though  I  may  guess,  like  a  Yankee,  still  I  shall 
hold  my  tongue.  Your  brother  Solomon  chews 
fearfully  over  this  matter ;  and  his  wife  (whom  all 
the  neighbors  call  aunt  Zeruiah)  knits  and  sews 
with  the  utmost  resolution,  both  of  them  looking 
as  if  they  had  buried  their  first-born. 

" '  They  will  expect  you'  —  Hm  !  no  matter 
about  that." 

As  he  read,  Phoebe's  face  underwent  every  pos- 
sible change  of  expression.  It  was  a  terrible  blow, 
and  none  the  less  painful  that  it  was  not  unex- 
pected. 

"  Well,  Phoebe,"  said  Mr.  Prescott,  "  it  seems  as 
if  you  must  soon  have  all  the  family  at  your  feet. 
Two  young  Prescotts,  as  I  conjecture,  have  been 
slain ;  and  now,  unless  you  come  back  to  live  with 
us,  my  wife  and  I  will  be  your  next  victims." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  155 

"  Pray  don't  jest,"  she  replied :  "  I  am  broken 
down.  I  seem  to  carry  nothing  but  sorrow  with 
me,  and  am  fated  to  make  every  one  wretched  who 
cares  for  me.  But,  if  you  and  Mrs.  Prescott  want 
me  to  return,  I  will  come,  though  I  have  prom- 
ised Miss  Thorpe  that  I  will  stay  part  of  the  time 
with  her." 

"  Then  come,  Phoebe,"  said  Mrs.  Prescott.  "  We 
cannot  alter  what  is  past.  It  is  a  desolate  heart 
that  you  will  find.  But  I  will  try  to  be  a  mother 
to  you  still." 

"  Come,"  said  Mr.  Prescott.  "  You  will  cheer 
us  up.  I  want  you  to  sing  to  us  in  the  evenings. 
I  sha'n't  be  happy  unless  I  see  you  about  the 
house.  Never  mind  the  —  the.  And  my  wife 
won't  be  half  so  desolate  as  she  thinks." 

It  was  singular  that  both  had  instinctively 
avoided  asking  Phcebe  any  question  about  the 
cause  of  her  going  away.  There  are  many  recog- 
nized facts  about  which  very  little  is  said,  and 
which  people  tacitly  agree  not  to  look  at. 

Insensibly  the  gloom  began  to  wear  off,  and 
Mrs.  Prescott  was  more  serene.  Still,  Phoebe 
could  not  be  wholly  at  ease.  The  loss  of  Rod- 
erick was  too  recent,  the  wound  in  the  mother's 
heart  was  too  new,  and  Phoebe  was  of  a  nature  so 
sympathetic,  that  she  felt  the  void  and  the  anguish 
as  if  they  had  been  her  own.  Time  only  would 
restore  perfect  harmony. 

But  the  three  sat  by  the  window,  through 
which  came  a  fresh  breeze  laden  with  odors  from 


156  MAN  PROPOSES. 

the  flowers,  and  enjoyed  an  hour  of  unruffled 
pleasure.  Mr.  Prescott  had  never  known  the 
delight  of  having  children  of  his  own,  and  he  felt 
all  his  impulses  moving  towards  this  beautiful  and 
noble  girl.  He  determined  now  to  be  a  father  to 
her,  and,  with  her  consent,  to  adopt  her  by  form 
of  law.  He  did  not  mention  it,  however ;  for  he 
thought  it  better  to  learn  the  state  of  her  feelings 
in  a  private  interview. 

The  postman  rang,  and  a  servant  brought  in  a 
letter  for  Mrs.  Prescott.  It  was  a  bulky  letter 
with  a  foreign  stamp  and  an  old-fashioned,  heavy 
seal  of  wax.  Mrs.  Prescott  became  agitated  as 
if  she  feared  to  cut  the  envelope.  With  instinc- 
tive delicacy  Pho3be  rose,  and  said,  — 

"  I  intend  this  morning  to  call  on  Signor  Bel- 
vedere, and  perhaps  sing  a  little.  Will  you 
excuse  me  if  I  go  now?  I  may  call  on  Miss 
Thorpe  at  lunch-time,  and  we  will  both  come 
here  in  season  for  dinner." 

Mr.  Prescott  assented  cheerfully,  while  his  wife 
still  sat  silent,  holding  the  letter.  Phoebe  extended 
her  hands  to  both,  kissed  Mrs.  Prescott  on  her 
pale  cheek,  and  took  leave. 

A  walk  of  some  ten  minutes  brought  her  to  the 
apartments  where  we  first  saw  her.  Signor  Bel- 
vedere was  giving  a  lesson ;  and  she  .remained  in 
the  adjacent  room,  while  the  ambitious  pupil,  like 
a  tireless  bird,  soared  and  swooped,  and  beat 
against  the  wind,  through  the  billowy  variations 
of  an  operatic  air.  It  was  a  brilliant  specimen  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  157 

execution,  but  Phcebe  was  not  stirred.  Her  taste 
did  not  approve  of  ornament  for  ornament's  sake. 
She  thought  of  the  amazing  vocal  difficulties,  and 
that  was  fatal.  The  great  singer  not  only  over- 
comes difficulties,  she  does  not  let  you  perceive 
that  there  are  any.  Phoebe  looked  at  the  books, 
the  casts,  bronzes,  and  pictures,  and  chirruped 
at  the  mocking-bird,  —  the  "  intelligent  feath- 
ered critic  "  that  had  given  her  the  compliment 
of  a  rival  song.  In  due  time  the  lesson  was 
ended ;  and  the  pupil,  a  full-blown  rose  of  a 
woman,  plump,  radiant,  and  self-assured,  passed 
out.  Signor  Belvedere  entered  with  a  grave  but 
indescribably  winning  smile.  He  seemed  to  con- 
vey the  idea  that  he  had  just  been  a  bit  of  a  hypo- 
crite in  commending  the  labored  effort  of  his  last 
jDupil,  though  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  how  he 
did  it.  His  figure  was  erect,  clothed  all  in  black, 
and  devoid  of  ornament ;  but  his  dome-like  head 
was  crowned  with  a  small,  closely-fitting  purple 
velvet  cap.  He  touched  it  uneasily  as  he  came, 
as  if  it  were  an  anomaly,  but  dropped  his  hand  as 
if  to  say,  "  You  have  seen  it,  and  I  will  wear  it." 
His  fine  gray  eyes  sparkled  as  he  spoke. 

"  My  dear-a  young  lady,  and  so  I  see  you  again  I 
You  are  welcome  as  the  sun  after  rain.  Come, 
tell  me  all  about  it.  And-a  so  the  young  man  has 
gone;  and  you  don't-a  leave  Mistress  Prescott? 
I  was  afraid  you  had  run  away,  and  had  got  your- 
self lost.  What  a  loss  it  would  be  !  But  you 
don't-a  speak ! " 


158  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"How  can  I,"  said  Phoebe,  laughing,  "when 
you  are  saying  it  all  ?  " 

"  Ah !  I  am  a  garrulous  old  a-fool.  But  I  am 
only  bubbling  over  with  joy.  And  so  you  will 
n  ^t  be  triste  any  more  ?  And  you  will  singg,  — 
of  course  you  will  sing  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  But  let  me  recover  my  breath.  I 
did  intend  to  leave  the  Prescotts  forever.  I  found 
a  home  with  Miss  Thorpe,  and  should  have  been 
content  to  stay  with  her,  only  I  should  have  to 
escape  sometimes.  She  doesn't  like  music,  or 
rather  thinks  it  belongs  to  an  inferior  order  of 
minds.  She  is  all  spirit,  a  pure  intelligence,  and 
lives  in  the  clear  light  of  reason.  Any  emotion 
she  thinks  only  clouds  the  soul." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Thorpe  !  Yes,  I  remember,  —  a  di- 
minish-ed  copy  of  Pallas,  just  from  the  brain  of 
Jove.  A  steady  and  bright  woman,  —  I  remember. 
I  was  once  at  the  Plato  Club.  She  was  there, 
listening  sharply.  She  might  have  been  a  type 
of  mind,  without  mortal  en-avironment,  as  she 
herself  would  say.  And  so  'emotion  clouds  the 
soul,'  does  it?  Then-a  the  mother's  soul  is 
clouded  by  her  love  for  her  son?  Christ's  soul 
was-a  clouded  when  he  drove  the  money-changers 
in  wrath  from  the  temple?  David's  soul  was-a 
clouded,  both  in  his  abject  penitence  and  in  his- 
fervid  psalms  of  praise  ?  The  souls  of  Augustine, 
Thomas  a  Kempis,  Francis  d'Assisi,  John  Bun- 
yan  —  they  were  clouded  also  ?  And  Handel  was 
clouded  when  he  wrote  the  Messiah,  and  so  was 


MAN  PROPOSES.  159 

the  majestic  Palestrini,  whose  litanies  I  hope  to 
hear  in-a  heaven?  And  Beethoven  too,  his  soul 
was-a  clouded,  when,  retreating  from  external 
sense,  he  fashioned  in  the  solitary  chambers  of  his 
great  soul  those  symphonies  which  seem  to  have 
existed  from  eternity,  and  will  go  sounding  on  in 
scecula  sceculorum  ?  Ah,  no  !  Miss  Phaybe  it  is  only 
intellectual  pride  that-a  disdains  emotion,  and 
talks  of  the  rule  of  reason.  The  race  is  in  sexes. 
'Male  and  female  created  he  them.'  And  the 
nature  of  man,  I  will-a  not  call  it  either  mind  or 
soul,  —  the  nature  of  man  is  complex.  We  per- 
ceive, we  think,  and-a  we  feel.  That  is  all  we 
know  about  it.  The  wisest  of  the  philosophers, 
if  he  takes  you  through  a  do-zen  volumes  upon 
what  he  calls  mental  philosophy,  which  is  all 
scoria^  rubbish,  will  get  no  farther  than  when 
he  started,  namely,  that  we  perceive,  we  think, 
and  we  feel.  True,  a  person  all  feeling  is  pulpy, 
with  no  more  backbone  than  a  jelly-fish.  That 
is  a  passionate  child,  a  soft  and  good-for-noth- 
ing woman,  a  silly  idiot.  But  a  person  with  no 
feeling  —  Grand  Dio,  what  a  creature  !  Thought 
and  feeling ;  and  what-a  God  hath  join-ed  together, 
let-a  not  Miss  Thorpe  put  asunder ! " 

Signor  Belvedere  looked  like  an  ancient  prophet 
in  a  vision :  he  had  never  made  so  long  a  speech 
before  in  his  life.  Pho?be  listened  in  silent  tri- 
umph. She  had  not  felt  convinced  by  Miss 
Thorpe's  reasoning,  and  she  could  not  share  her 
contempt  for  emotional  natures ;  but  she  had  not 


160  MAN  PROPOSES. 

the  power  to  confute  her :  and  it  was  with  a  glow- 
ing, irrepressible  joy  that  she  saw  the  emotion  con- 
nected with  the  reason,  —  the  marriage  of  feeling 
and  thought.  She  was  sure  Signer  Belvedere  was 
a  great  man,  and  need  only  write  one  small,  elo- 
quent treatise  to  demolish  all  the  philosophers  of 
Miss  Thorpe's  school. 

*'  As  I  love  music,  I  like  to  feel  that  it  is  not 
wrong,  and  that  it  is  not  unworthy.  I  have  fre- 
quently wanted  to  ask  Miss  Thorpe  why  she 
thought  the  angels  were  represented  as  singing 
with  harps." 

"  She  would  have-a  told  you  that  these  thinggs 
are  symbols,  —  images  adapted  to  the  comprehen- 
sion of  children  and-a  the  common  people." 

"  But  I  like  to  believe  in  the  singing  and  in  the 
real  harps  of  gold.  I  have  never  felt  so  near 
heaven  as  in  listening  to  a  great  mass  such  as 
Cherubini's." 

"  Ah,  well !  my  dear  Miss  Phaybe,  we  shall-a 
know  a  great  deal  better  about  heaven  when-a  we 
get  there.  Let  us  come  to  mundane  affairs." 

They  talked  then  of  what  had  happened. 
Phoebe  extolled  Miss  Thorpe,  and  sympathized 
with  Mrs.  Prescott,  and  declared  that  she  could 
not  do  without  either  of  them.  She  did  not  refer 
to  her  interview  with  the  major  on  the  parade- 
ground.  She  remembered  what  she  had  said  of 
him  to  Signor  Belvedere,  and  did  not  care  to 
explain  the  causes  that  had  led  her  to  forgive  the 
offence,  and  to  a  different  view  of  his  character. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  161 

She  related  artlessly  the  few  reminiscences  which 
Mrs.  Maloney  gave  of  her  mother,  and  told  of  her 
faint  recollection  of  a  mother's  lullaby.  All  the 
Italian  in  the  master  was  aroused.  He  went  to 
the  piano,  and  touched  the  keys, 

"  Beginning  doubtfully  and  far  away, 
And  let  bis  fingers  wander  as  they  list, 
To  build  a  bridge  from  dreamland  for  his  lay." 

Then  the  music  began  to  rock,  and  the  master's 
head  swayed  with  the  rhythm  ;  and  presently,  with 
the  rather  husky  tones  of  a  voice  that  had  once 
been  fine,  he  looked  at  Phoebe,  and  began  to  sing, 
still  as  if  rocking,  and  moving  his  head  caressingly 
as  if  to  a  tired  child  :  — 

Nel  seno  materno 
Riposa,  cor  mio, 
Ti  salvi  di  Dio 
La  somma  piet& ! 

La  vergin  ti  guardi, 
Membrandosi  il  figlio, 
E  piova  dal  ciglio 
Beniguo  fulgor. 

Ti  cuoprin  <xm  1'ali 
Gli  spirti  celesti, 
Di  cui  tu  rivesti 
L'  imago  quaggiu ! 

Oh  dor  mi,  leggiadro, 
Bambino  diletto ! 
Vicina  al  tuo  letto 
Vegliando  start. 


162  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Before  many  lines  were  gone  over,  Phoebe's 
eyes  began  to  dilate,  and  her  fine  thin  nostrils 
showed  a  delicate  tension.  Her  breath  came 
faster,  and  soon  she  found  her  eyelids  weighted 
with  tears.  She  seemed  to  be  recalling  from  the 
far-off  chambers  of  memory  those  sounds  which 
were  associated  with  helpless  infancy  and  brood- 
ing maternal  love.  Though  she  could  not  before 
have  repeated  a  line,  nor  hummed  a  note,  of  the 
simple  melody,  yet  soon  it  was  as  familiar  as 
her  nightly  prayer.  She  dropped  her  head,  and 
sobbed. 

"  You  have-a  heard  it,  Miss  Phaybe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  many  times !  It  is  the  one  thing  that 
comes  back  to  me,  and  I  see  my  mother's  beauti- 
ful sad  face  bending  over  me." 

"  It  is  a  lullaby  by  Isabella  Rossi.  Said  I  not 
you  were  the  daughter  of  an  Italian  mother? 
But  I  am  sorry  to  have  made  you  cry." 

"  No  :  they  are  sweet  tears.     Don't  mind  them." 

"  I  will  copy  the  little  songg,  and  write  out  the 
music  for  you,  as  well  as  I  can  recollect." 

Her  tears  soon  dried,  like  the  rain  of  an  April 
day ;  and  after  a  time  she  sang  all  her  old  songs, 
throwing  a  heart-felt  pathos  into  the  tones  of  her 
rich  voice." 

"This  it  is,"  said  the  master,  "that  rewards 
the  toil  and  anxiety  of  years.  I  am  a  garden-er, 
and  you  are  my  rose,  my  lily,  my  mignonette." 

If  Phoebe  had  not  felt  a  thrill  of  rapture,  she 
would  not  have  been  a  woman  and  an  artist. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  163 

After  making  an  appointment  for  the  next  lesson, 
she  was  about  to  go,  when  Signor  Belvedere 
observed,  "  We  have  open-ed  so  successfully  one 
long-forgotten  spring,  that  I  have  curiosity,  I  con- 
fess, to  see  that  old  prayer-book.  Its  cover,  even 
now,  is  perfum-ed  by  a  mother's  love.  It  was 
a  good  thought  of  Miss  Thorpe  to  advertise  it. 
We  shall  soon  have  the  full  name  of  the  flower 
I  am  so  proud  to  have  cultivated.  Good-by,  and 
God-a  bless  you !  " 


164  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  dinner-hour  came,  and  Phoebe  and  Miss 
Thorpe  were  seated  at  the  table  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Prescott.  Though  it  was  not  dark,  the  blinds 
were  closed,  and  the  chandelier  lighted.  The  table 
service  was  exquisite ;  and  flowers,  as  usual,  were 
in  profusion.  Mrs.  Prescott  had  regained  her  com- 
posure, and  her  husband  was  .in  the  happiest 
humor.  He  bowed  to  the  elder  and  to  the  young- 
er guest,  and  felicitated  himself  upon  his  position 
between  music  and  philosophy,  youth  and  matu- 
rity, wisdom  and  grace.  He  rallied  Miss  Thorpe 
upon  Buckle's  doctrine  of  averages,  and  asked  her 
to  compile  a  dictionary  for  beginners  in  Spencer. 
He  would  have  turned  his  raillery  upon  Phoebe, 
only  it  occurred  to  him  that  her  influence  upon 
the  fate  of  his  nephew,  or  that  of  his  stepson, 
would  be  hardly  a  delicate  subject  for  jest. 

Mrs.  Prescott  did  not  once  mention  the  letter 
that  had  caused  her  so  much  agitation  that  morn- 
ing ;  but  it  was  evident  she  was  thinking  of  it,  for 
her  conversation  was  mostly  upon  her  old  home 
and  the  members  of  her  family.  Phoabe  was  some- 
what surprised  at  her  reticence  ;  for  she  knew  that 
Mrs.  Prescott  had  not  heard  from  her  English 
relatives  for  a  long  time. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  165 


"  I  have  often  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Prescott, 
"how  much  I  should  like  to  revisit  England. 
You  know  I  have  not  been  there  since  my  first 
marriage,  and  that  was  a  long  while  ago.  During 
Mr.  Courtney's  lifetime  we  often  spoke  of  it,  but 
the  convenient  time  never  came.  Now,  Mr.  Pres- 
cott is  even  more  devoted  to  business ;  but  I  think 
next  year,  '  when  this  cruel  war  is  over,'  as  the 
ballad  has  it,  we  will  make  a  little  party  and  go." 
She  was  looking  at  Phoebe,  and  thinking  at  the 
same  time  of  her  absent  son. 

Mr.  Prescott  had  good  reasons  for  thinking  the 
trip  far  from  feasible  ;  but  he  said  nothing.  Phoebe 
understood  the  look  and  the  allusion,  but  gave  no 
sign.  Miss  Thorpe  remarked  that  she  should 
enjoy  going  abroad,  and  especially  to  England ; 
but  she  added,  "  The  results  of  travel  are  what  I 
chiefly  enjoy  ;  and  those  can  be  had  at  home.  All 
of  the  art  and  architecture  of  the  world  are  in 
books.  You  may  speak  of  the  associations  of 
Westminster  Abbey  ;  but  I  follow  an  imaginary 
pilgrim  among  the  tombs,  and  can  recall  all  that 
is  great  in  the  lives  of  the  dead  that  lie  there. 
Emerson  has  distilled  England  as  in  an  alembic. 
Story,  the  poet  and  sculptor,  takes  you  through 
Rome :  you  see  every  thing  on  his  vivid  page, 
and  especially  if  you  have  the  Roman  photo- 
graphs ;  and  you  need  not  go  there.  Why,  my 

friend,  Mr.  Q ,  who  was  never  in  England, 

knows  every  noble  family  and  the  history  of  every 
house ;  knows  who  married  whom :  in  short,  he 


166  MAN  PROPOSES. 

is  a  living  Burke's  Peerage  and  an  Itinerary  of 
the  kingdom  combined.  He  corrected  a  friend  of 
mine  for  an  error  in  an  account  of  his  visit  to 
London,  and  showed  him,  that,  upon  leaving  such 
a  street,  he  must  have  gone  into  such  a  one  (giv- 
ing the  name),  and  that  he  could  not  have  gone 
by  the  street  the  narrator  had  mentioned.  My 
friend  was  astonished.  'Why,  how  long  since 
you  went  abroad ? '  —  'I  was  never  in  London,'  he 
replied." 

"  That  is  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Prescott :  "  and 
so  can  a  blind  man  study  the  plan  of  a  city  so  as 
to  get  about ;  but  I  had  rather  have  my  eyes,  for 
all  that.  A  photograph  of  a  Roman  arch  may  be 
fine  and  impressive ;  but  I  would  much  rather 
look  out  through  one  into  the  Campagna  or  the 
blue  of  an  Italian  sky.  And  I  would  give  more 
to  see  one  Titian  or  a  Rembrandt  to  my  heart's 
content  than  to  look  at  all  the  engravings  in 
the  universe.  Our  dinner  here  is  only  so  much 
carbon  and  nitrogen  and  other  elements;  yet  I 
don't  want  any  one  to  come  here  and  weigh  me 
out  the  chemical  equivalents  of  a  slice  of  beef:  I 
prefer  the  red  and  juicy  article  itself.  Mr.  Emer- 
son may  have  distilled  England,  and  Mr.  Story 
may  have  bottled  up  Rome ;  but  I  have  my  pref- 
erences." 

"I  have  seen  some  uneducated  people,"  said 
Mrs.  Prescott,  "  who  have  made  themselves  quite 
agreeable  by  travel.  It  seems  to  suppl"  the  defi- 
ciences  of  early  training." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  167 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Thorpe ;  "  but  it  oftener  sup- 
plies the  ignorant  with  a  few  conventional  phrases, 
and  covers  their  ill-breeding  with  a  thin  varnish." 

"  Then  let  us  be  thankful  for  the  varnish,"  said 
Mr.  Prescott. 

"Has  Mr.  Gibbs  been  abroad?"  asked  Phoebe 
innocently. 

"  No,  my  dear  ;  and  he  needs  to  acquire  both  the 
polite  phrases  and  the  polish.  By  the  way,"  — and 
what  the  chain  of  association  was  to  what  he  was 
about  to  say,  no  person  could  have  guessed,  —  "I 
think  I'll  go  up  to  Eaglemont  shortly.  Brother 
Solomon  feels  very  blue  about  his  son.  I  would 
like  to  see  him,  and  to  see  the  old  town ;  and  I 
have  some  notion  of  spending  a  month  or  two 
there  this  summer."  He  looked  up  cautiously  to 
see  the  effect  upon  his  wife.  She  remained  placid, 
regarding  him  with  her  large,  calm  eyes. 

"How  would  you  like  to  go,  my  dear?  —  And 
you,  Phoebe,  just  for  a  day  or  two?" 

Mrs.  Prescott  replied  that  she  would  like  to  go, 
but  would  confer  with  him  as  to  some  matters, 
such  as  the  care  of  the  house  in  their  absence,  and 
providing  for  certain  comforts  not  always  to  be 
had  in  the  country. 

Phoebe  had  but  one  regret,  and  that  was  to 
break  her  appointment  with  Signer  Belvedere. 
Miss  Thorpe  said  tfyat  a  trip  to  the  country  would 
be  enlivening  both  to  Mrs.  Prescott  and  Phoebe, 
though  the  town  was  still  beautiful,  and  the  heat 
not  excessive. 


168  MAN  PROPOSES. 

After  dinner  Mr.  Prescott  went  out  to  smoke  a 
few  whiffs  of  a  cheroot,  and  then  returned,  and 
asked  Phoebe  to  sing.  Mrs.  Prescott  and  Miss 
Thorpe  meanwhile  went  into  the  library  together, 
where  they  conversed  for  a  long  time. 

Phoebe  had  recovered  her  elasticity  of  temper, 
and  was  in  superb  physical  condition.  A  singer 
must  have  the  fervid  temperament  in  the  strong 
body  to  produce  the  best  effect.  Few  out  of  the 
profession  know  what  a  union  of  intellect,  feeling, 
and  will,  as  well  as  of  throat,  lungs,  and  muscle,  is 
required. 

Mr.  Prescott  was  insatiable,  and  Phoebe  was 
generous.  She  sang  German  songs  and  French 
chansons,  English  ballads  and  Italian  cavatinas, 
not  forgetting  some  of  the  touching  African  melo- 
dies, of  which  "  Old  Folks  at  Home  "  is  a  specimen. 
Mr.  Prescott  sat  by  her,  sipping  an  occasional 
glass  of  Madeira,  and  chewing  the  end  of  his 
cheroot.  His  enjoyment  was  almost  an  ecstasy. 

But  now  and  then  the  thought  of  Gibbs  in- 
truded ;  and  the  bristly,  repulsive  face  seemed  to 
chuckle  in  triumph  at  the  downfall  which  was  not 
now  far  off ;  for  Mr.  Prescott  had  ceased  to  strug- 
gle, and  was  prepared  to  give  up  the  business 
when  the  appointed  time  came.  His  only  doubt 
was,  whether,  from  the  wreck  of  his  fortune,  he 
could  save  enough  to  support  his  wife  and  Phoebe 
in  the  old  house  at  Eaglemont.  He  meant  to  make 
the  visit  there  without  delay,  and  when  they  were 
comfortably  settled,  and  while  the  romance  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  169 

country  life  was  fresh,  to  break  to  them  the  evil 
news,  and  prepare  them  for  giving  up  the  luxury 
and  society  of  the  town.  These  were  the  thoughts 
that  were  running  through  his  mind  as  he  listened 
to  Phoebe's  singing.  He  was  also  making  a  mental 
inventory  of  the  articles  he  would  have  carried  up 
on  the  train ;  and  the  piano  stood  first  in  the  list. 
He  had  fixed  upon  the  day  after  to-morrow  for  the 
trip  to  Eaglemont. 

The  singing  was  done ;  and  Mr.  Prescott  and 
Phcebe  were  in  pleasant  conversation  for  some 
time.  As  Mrs.  Prescott  and  Miss  Thorpe  still 
lingered  in  the  library,  Mr.  Prescott  sauntered  to 
the  door,  and  saw  both  ladies  writing.  Discreetly 
he  retired,  but  not  without  wonder.  Something 
was  going  on :  the  secrets  were  not  wholly  on 
his  side  of  the  house.  But  nothing  was  said ;  and 
soon  Miss  Thorpe  appeared,  saying  that  it  was 
time  for  her  to  go  home.  The  carriage  was  or- 
dered ;  and  she  was  driven  home,  accompanied  by 
Phoebe. 

Mrs.  Prescott  proved  that  a  woman  can  keep  a 
secret ;  for  she  did  not  allude  to  the  writing  done 
by  herself  and  Miss  Thorpe,  and  next  morning 
gave  her  husband,  without  comment,  a  stout  letter 
to  be  mailed.  It  was  addressed  to  her  elder 
brother,  Ralph  Manning,  Esq.,  Manning  Park, 
Knutsbridge,  Lancashire,  England. 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Prescott,  in  glancing  over 
the  newspaper,  chanced  to  see  an  odd  advertise- 
ment offering  a  large  reward  for  a  prayer-book  in 


170  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Latin  or  Italian.  The  description  was  written, 
he  thought,  by  a  practised  hand ;  the  phraseology 
was  apt  and  terse :  but  the  motive  he  could  not 
divine.  He  showed  it  to  his  wife. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  knew  of  it.  Miss  Thorpe 
last  evening  told  me  what  she  had  done." 

"Well,  upon  my  soul,  you  are  the  secretest 
woman ! " 

"  Do  you  always  tell  me  every  thing,  my  dear  ? " 

"  Why,  of  course  I  do,"  he  plumply  answered. 

"  You  know,  Miss  Thorpe  had  a  brilliant  and 
unfortunate  sister.  I  believe  that  she  secretly 
cherishes  the  hope  that  Phoebe  may  turn  out  to 
be  her  niece.  It  is  rather  hoping  against  hope, 
for  she  had  positive  information  that  the  sister 
died  without  children.  The  sister,  I  believe,  was  a 
half-sister,  much  taller  and  fuller  in  figure,  and, 
being  an  artist,  was  of  a  different  temperament. 
Now,  there  is  a  portrait  of  that  sister  in  the  house  ; 
and  it  certainly  has  some  resemblance  to  Phoebe, 
especially  in  the  far-away  look  of  the  eyes,  and  in 
the  beautiful  lips.  It  was  always  called  an  Italian 
face ;  and,  as  Phoebe  probably  had  an  Italian 
mother,  the  resemblance  may  not  be  so  wonderful. 
But  she  has  learned  that  Phoebe's  mother  had  a 
Catholic  prayer-book  such  as  is  described  in  the 
advertisement,  and  that  Phoebe's  full  name  was 
written  upon  a  blank  leaf,  or  was  in  the  lining  of 
the  cover." 

"  Well,  it  is  curious ;  but,  for  my  part,  I  don't 
greatly  care  to  trace  Phoebe's  history.  I  should 


MAN  PROPOSES.  171 

be  afraid  that  some  one  with  a  legal  right  might 
*come  and  take  her  away  from  us ;  and,  if  you  are 
willing,  I  propose  to  adopt  her  without  delay." 

"Well,  yes,  if  Miss  Thorpe  does  not  find  what 
she  hopes.  Phoebe  is  a  good  child.  That  she  is 
lovely  every  one  can  see.  It  is  possible,  barely 
possible,  that  another  clew  may  be  found  to  her 
parentage." 

Mr.  Prescott  gave  a  quick  glance  of  interroga- 
tion ;  but  his  wife  turned  away  to  some  indifferent 
topic.  He  dropped  the  matter,  knowing  by  expe- 
rience that  she  would  soon  come  to  him  to  share 
any  trustworthy  information. 


172  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

MR.  AND  MRS.  PRESCOTT  and  Phoebe  were  on 
their  way  to  Eaglemont.  Signor  Belvedere  had 
called  the  evening  previous,  and  had  given  Phcebe 
a  comic  passport  entitling  her  to  protection  in 
foreign  parts ;  also  some  new  music,  including  a 
manuscript  copy  of  the  cradle-song,  with  illumina- 
tions by  his  own  hands.  Miss  Thorpe,  being  left 
alone,  was  devoting  herself  to  the  work  of  the 
Sanitary  Commission. 

As  the  train  rolled  on,  Phcebe  had  an  opportu- 
nity for  reflection ;  and  she  began  to  think  in 
what  a  trying  position  she  was  to  be  placed,  be- 
tween two  mothers,  each  of  whom  believed  her  to 
have  been  the  cause  of  her  son's  misery  and  exile. 
No  one  but  herself  knew  how  the  matter  stood 
with  either  suitor.  Roderick  had  made  no  one 
a  confidant ;  but  she  saw  that  his  mother  had 
observed  closely,  and  had  drawn  her  conclusions. 
Robert  the  preacher  was  no  sentimental  lover,  and 
wasted  no  time  in  unmanly  tears ;  but  Amory's 
letter  had  shown  that  his  deep  disappointment 
was  known  at  home ;  and,  as  he  had  left  the 
country  suddenly,  there  was  a  natural  conclusion 
to  be  drawn  in  his  case  also. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  173 

Mrs.  Hugh  Prescott  had  been  pacified  in  a 
measure,  partly,  perhaps,  because  she  believed 
that  Phoebe  really  loved  her  son,  and  that  all 
would  be  well  when  he  came  back;  but  aunt  Zer- 
uiah,  the  wife  of  Solomon  Prescott,  was  a  person 
whom  Phoebe  dreaded  to  meet.  The  dilemma  had 
not  occurred  to  her  until  now,  when  she  could  not 
turn  back.  She  had  heard  of  the  good  lady's 
inflexible  nature,  her  upright  and  downright 
speech,  and  she  feared  to  come  under  her  severe 
observation.  Uncle  Solomon,  she  knew,  was 
quaint,  and  inclined  to  jollity,  —  such  jollity  as 
was  possible  in  a  puritan  neighborhood;  and 
Mary,  whom  she  had  seen  a  few  times,  was  as 
fresh  and  charming  as  a  clover-blossom.  She 
thought  she  would  temporize,  make  friends  with 
the  daughter,  captivate  the  father  if  she  could, 
and  then  face  the  solemn  matron  as  best  she 
might. 

With  such  thoughts  the  time  passed  until  the 
train  reached  the  station.  The  town  was  located 
in  a  valley  hemmed  in  by  hills ;  and  a  swift  river 
went  winding  through  meadows,  and  turning 
corners  by  slopes  of  green  pasture.  The  old 
Prescott  place  was  two  miles  distant ;  and  the 
road  from  the  village  led  up  a  long  hill,  from 
which  there  was  a  magnificent  prospect.  Half- 
way up  was  the  house  which  Mr.  Prescott  had 
ordered  to  be  repaired ;  but  he  drove  by  without 
mentioning  it,  and  drew  up  at  his  brother  Solo- 
inon's  door. 


174  MAN  PROPOSES. 

There  was  the  usual  surprise  when  the  carriage 
neared  the  house,  the  quick  putting-off  of  aprons 
and  changing  of  calico  dresses  by  aunt  Zeruiah 
and  Mary,  the  loud  cackling  of  geese  by  the 
brook,  the  gathering  of  animals  at  the  fence  in 
the  home  lot  to  watch  the  coming  of  strangers, 
and  finally  the  hearty  welcome  of  uncle  Solomon, 
who,  in  a  long  blue  frock,  came  from  the  barn  to 
the  grassplat  in  front  of  the  house,  and  held  the 
horse  while  his  visitors  alighted. 

Who  shall  describe  the  hospitality  of  a  well-to- 
do  farmer  when  his  only  brother  comes  from  the 
great  city  to  renew  the  old  associations?  The 
marvels  of  cookery,  the  almost  oppressive  atten- 
tions, the  simplicity  of  rural  manners,  the  fresh- 
ness of  feeling,  combine  to  make  the  return  a  glad 
festival. 

The  brothers  were  strikingly  alike ;  only  the  one 
had  the  sunburned  face  and  heavy  gait  of  a 
farmer,  and  the  other  the  paler  .complexion  and 
alert  movement  of  a  man  accustomed  to  city  life. 
They  soon  walked  off  to  look  at  the  cattle,  and 
inspect  the  garden  and  the  adjacent  fields  in  culti- 
vation. The  two  matrons  sat  in  rocking-chairs  in 
the  solemn  retreat  of  the  best  room,  and  discussed 
their  sons.  Nothing  was  omitted  in  the  experi- 
ence of  either.  Mumps  and  measles  were  duly 
compared  and  chronicled,  likewise  the  cutting  of 
first  teeth,  and  the  dates  of  creeping  and  walking ; 
and  their  accidents,  tempers,  and  schooling,  and 
all  that  concerns  boyhood,  were  gone  over  with 


MAN  PROPOSES.  175 

that  fond  attention  to  details  which  only  mothers 
can  bestow.  They  came  back  to  two  hard  facts. 
One  son  had  gone  to  the  war :  the  other  had  gone 
to  the  heathen.  And,  without  actually  asserting 
it,  each  let  the  other  know  (in  strict  confidence), 
that  the  disdain  of  a  certain  young  lady  with 
beautiful  black  eyes  had  much  to  do  with  the 
sudden  departure  of  her  son. 

The  two  girls  meanwhile  planned  a  little  excur- 
sion for  the  afternoon  ;  and  uncle  Solomon,  as  a 
special  favor,  harnessed  his  favorite  colt  to  the 
elliptic-spring  wagon,  giving  abundant  caution  to 
Mary  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  because  the  colt 
was  spry.  The  "  colt "  was  a  tolerably  lively  but 
perfectly  manageable  animal  of  some  six  or  seven 
years,  and  knew  the  hand  of  Mary  as  well  as  that 
of  her  father. 

They  drove  down  the  hill  at  a  rattling  pace, 
laughing  whenever  the  wagon  tossed  them  over  the 
"  thank-ye-ma'ams,"  as  the  banks  for  turning  water 
off  the  road  were  called ;  then  whirled  around 
the  long  bends  of  the  river,  where  the  water  lay  in 
tranquil  pools,  covered  with  lily-pads ;  then  walked 
up  a  long  acclivity  under  sweet-smelling  birches 
and  chestnuts ;  then  dashed  down  across  a  sandy 
plain,  beneath  clusters  of  aromatic  pines  that  were 
always  whispering  to  each  other  across  the  nar- 
row roadway ;  then  skirted  a  lovely  lake  (which 
the  country-people  belittled  by  the  name  of  a 
pond),  and  watched  the  inverted  reflections  of  pur- 
ple hills,  white  clouds,  and  blue  sky  in  its  glassy 


176  MAN  PROPOSES. 

depths;  then  ascended  more  hills,  until  they 
reached  a  high  ground  that  commanded  the  sweep 
of  the  whole  horizon.  Here  they  halted.  Phoebe 
clapped  her  hands  with  delight.  Northward  stood 
the  Old  Sachem,  a  cloudy  mass,  with  hues  that 
seemed  to  waver  from  purple  gray  to  chrysolite. 
Eastward  were  the  lower  blue  ranges  that  sloped 
toward  the  sea-level.  Southward  were  the  bil- 
lowy tops  of  hills,  in  an  atmosphere  of  gold 
dust  under  the  westering  sun.  Westward,  and 
surprisingly  near,  were  the  picturesque  mountains 
that  hem  in  the  Connecticut,  —  dark  and  gloomy 
shadows,  with  sharp-rimmed  and  irregularly  ser- 
rated ridges.  And  over  and  beyond  them  were  the 
faint  lines  of  blue,  scarcely  discernible,  which 
mark  the  mountain  district  that  hangs  over  the 
valley  of  the  Hudson.  Truly  it  was  wonderful, 
both  in  the  grandeur  of  the  whole  and  in  the 
beauty  of  every  detail.  The  eye  was  never  weary 
of  tracing  out  in  the  distance  tender  green  mead- 
ows, clumps  of  maples,  tall  and  feathery  elms, 
pasture-slopes,  white  and  red  farmhouses,  weather- 
stained  barns,  winding  streams,  ponds  fringed 
with  trees,  and  yellow-ochre  roads.  Every  thing 
looked  so  far!  It  was  a  glance  into  Liliput,  or 
a  view  of  fairy-land  through  a  reversed  telescope. 
The  air  above  them  was  a  dome  of  absolute  crystal 
purity.  The  nearer  objects  seemed  almost  within 
reach.  As  the  vista  receded,  the  blue  and  rosy  and 
golden  hues  sifted  in,  until  the  remotest  objects 
blended  with  the  sky,  and  the  pursuit  became  a 


MAN  PROPOSES.  177 

pain.  Phoebe,  as  we  have  said,  clapped  her  hands 
at  first ;  but,  the  longer  she  looked,  the  more 
serious  she  grew,  the  more  rapt  and  exalted  were 
her  feelings.  She  experienced  a  sensation  of  awe, 
as  if  in  the  presence  of  Omnipotence. 

"  I  could  sit  here  forever ! "  she  said.  "  Such  dis- 
tance, such  magical  color,  such  variety !  Think  of 
me  at  home,  never  seeing  any  thing  but  brick 
walls !  How  I  envy  you !  " 

Mary  looked  wonderingly  upon  her  new  friend. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  high  place  up  here.  You  can  see 
very  far.  That  mountain  there  is  near  fifty  miles 
away :  that  ridge  there  is  almost  a  hundred.  I 
often  drive  up  here." 

"I  don't  speak  of  mere  height  and  distance," 
said  Phoabe.  "I  am  dazzled  by  effects.  Those 
clouds  of  gold,  those  western  hills  of  yellow  topaz, 
those  tiny  lakes  of  moonstone,  the  mountains  of 
sapphire,  —  how  gorgeous!  I  could  fly,  surely  I 
could  sing."  And,  without  waiting  for  a  sugges- 
tion, she  poured  forth  a  succession  of  thrilling 
notes.  It  is  quite  certain  that  the  air  of  that 
serene  hill-top  had  never  been  so  disturbed  before. 
It  was  a  Tyrolean  melody,  with  a  wild  yodel  at 
the  close.  The  distant  cattle  heard  it,  and  came 
inquiringly  towards  the  singer ;  the  sheep  gath- 
ered dubiously  in  clumps ;  distant  farm-hands  in 
the  pastures  dropped  their  bush-hoes  and  scythes : 
but,  most  wonderful  of  all,  there  came  from  the 
top  of  another  hill  somewhat  lower,  a  series  of 
lovely  echoes,  pure,  clear,  and  far  away,  "like 


178  MAN  PROPOSES. 

horns  from  Elfland  blowing,"  —  living  illustrations 
of  Tennyson's  immortal  song.  Voices  had  been 
heard  on  the  hill  before,  but  never  such  a  voice, 
nor  one  animated  by  such  a  soul. 

Mary  was  greatly  affected,  though  she  hardly 
knew  why.  "  What  a  voice  you  have  !  Oh,  it  is 
beautiful !  It  seemed  as  if  you  were  calling  the 
cows,  where  your  voice  went  up  and  down  so 
pretty." 

Phoebe  laughed  in  spite  of  herself.  "Yes, 
Mary,"  she  said,  "that  yodel,  as  they  call  it,  does 
come  from  mountainous  countries,  like  Switzer- 
land; and  it  is  an  imitation  of  the  notes  of  the 
shepherds  calling  their  flocks  while  they  listen  to 
the  echoes  far  above." 

"  But  wait  till  we  begin  to  go  down  the  hill," 
said  Mary:  "there  is  a  place  at  the  bend  of  the 
road  where  a  good  voice  can  make  three  separate 
echoes,  one  coming  back  after  another." 

They  began  to  descend,  going  westward,  while 
the  sun  flooded  the  immense  landscape  with  molten 
gold,  and  while  amber  and  rose-gray  shadows  be- 
gan to  lurk  behind  the  low  hills  near  by. 

"  The  last  time  I  was  here,"  said  Mary,  "  was 
with  a  young  city  gentleman,  Mr.  Amory.  Per- 
haps you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Amory  the  poet,  your  uncle's  clerk. 
Yes,  I  know  him."  She  was  about  to  utter  some 
merry  quip ;  but  a  sudden  thought  restrained  her. 

"  He  was  greatly  taken  with  this  place.  I  had 
hard  work  to  get  him  away.  We  got  out  of  the 


MAN  PROPOSES.  179 

wagon,  and  sat  back  there  under  a  maple-tree  ; 
and  how  he  talked  !  Oh,  my  !  City  people  mostly 
go  wild  up  here.  We  don't  mind  it  so  much,  we 
see  it  so  often."  The  little  puritan  talked  in  a 
sadly  prosaic  way ;  but  she  looked  like  a  native 
blossom,  tender  and  sweet,  born  to  waste  her 
beauty  on  unanointed  eyes. 

"  You,  you  —  like  this  Mr.  Amory,  don't  you  ?  " 
said  Phcebe. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary  simply.  "  He  isn't  hand- 
some ;  but  he  is  good,  and  he  is  so  intelligent ! 
Why,  he  got  out  for  every  blossom  or  weed  that 
he  took  a  notion  to,  and  told  all  about  it;  and 
every  bit  of  shining  stone  he  picked  up.  And 
where  the  rocks  seemed  to  have  tipped  over,  and 
were  standing  up  edgewise,  he  told  how  the  earth 
heaved  them  up,  and  left  them  all  out  of  order ; 
and  on  the  hill  back  there,  the  tip-top,  he  found 
long  scratches  on  the  broad  rock,  and  said  that 
icebergs  had  once  lodged  there,  and  scraped  away 
into  the  stone  until  they  melted.  Oh,  he  knows 
a  great  deal !  He  is  a  superior  man." 

They  were  at  the  bend  of  the  road  that  Mary 
spoke  of,  and  Phcebe  repeated  the  mountain-song 
with  startling  effect.  The  echo  was  a  marvellous 
deception.  One  would  think  each  repetition  was 
surely  by  an  answering  voice.  They  kept  on,  the 
"  colt "  behaving  admirably,  and  soon  reached  a 
glen,  shut  in  by  dark,  high  walls  of  rock,  through 
which  rushed  a  brook  in  a  series  of  cascades,  the 
spray  and  bubbles  showing  from  the  road  like  a 


180  MAN  PROPOSES. 

piece  of  lace-work.  The  day  was  waning,  and 
they  could  not  delay;  but  they  gathered  some 
late  columbines,  a  few  of  the  lingering  wild  aza- 
leas, which  the  country-people  call  swamp-pinks 
(the  most  gorgeous  and  the  most  fragrant  of  all 
the  flowering  shrubs),  also  some  mosses  and  ferns, 
and  then  drove  away  down  a  level  road,  under 
lengthening  shadows  of  pine-trees,  towards  the 
village. 

On  the  way  Phoebe  mentioned  that  she  had 
heard  part  of  a  letter  from  Mr.  Amory  read,  and 
that  she  was  interested  to  know  more  of  him, 
and  where  he  was,  and  how  he  was  succeeding. 

This  opened  a  tender  subject  with  Mary ;  for 
she  knew  that  the  letter  was  the  one  that  gave  the 
news  of  the  sudden  departure  of  her  brother. 
This  brother  Robert  was  simply  worshipped  by 
Mary  as  well  as  by  her  father  and  mother ;  and 
his  death  would  hardly  have  touched  them  more 
than  his  manner  of  leaving  them.  She  feared 
she  might  say  something  to  grate  upon  Phoebe's 
feelings,  and  had  not  intended  to  mention  his 
name  or  his  strange  behavior  during  the  brief 
visit.  Mary  urged  on  the  horse,  and  after  a  time 
subdued  her  rising  emotion.  With  delicate  sim- 
plicity she  went  on  to  speak  of  Amory. 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  him,"  she  said ;  "  or, 
rather,  it  is  more  like  a  journal ;  and,  though  it 
should  be  private,  there  are  things  in  it  I  want 
uncle  Hugh  to  see.  I  assure  you  Mr.  Amory  is  a 
superior  person." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  181 

"Is  it  a  love-letter?"  asked  Phoebe  merrily. 
"  If  it  is,  I  want  to  read  it.  I  never  had  one." 

"  Your  lover,"  said  Mary  rather  solemnly, 
"  didn't  trust  to  a  letter,  I  suppose,  but  laid  his 
love  at  your  feet  in  person." 

Phcebe  felt  the  stroke.  It  was  like  the  "Nathan 
said  unto  David." 

"  But,  dear  Phoebe,  it  is  not  a  love-letter,  though 
it  has  some  lovely  fringes  and  frills,  —  some  dear 
little  words  put  in  here  and  there.  Oh,  no !  it  is 
a  serious  letter,  and  noble ;  and  I  think  uncle 
Hugh  ought  to  read  it." 

They  passed  through  the  village,  —  the  fairest 
freight  that  any  wagon  ever  bore.  The  piles  of 
ferns,  the  bunches  of  many-colored  blossoms,  and 
especially  the  huge  sheaf  of  gorgeous  and  odorous 
azaleas,  attracted  sufficient  attention ;  and  many 
a  farmer-boy  loitering  by  the  stores  wondered 
"  why  the  city  gals  allers  wanted  to  git  such  an 
all-fired  lot  of  them  swamp-pinks." 

Supper  was  served  at  twilight.  The  affairs  of 
the  state  and  nation  had  been  discussed  by  the 
brothers ;  the  matrons  had  finished  experiences ; 
and  the  two  girls  had  come  home  jubilant.  Phoebe 
had  never  spent  such  a  day  in  her  life.  Mary  no 
longer  wondered  at  her  poor  brother's  fascination. 
The  elder  Prescotts  looked  on  the  two  damsels, 
and  each  wondered  if  the  earth  could  show  another 
such  a  pair.  The  longer  they  looked,  the  stronger 
the  conviction  grew. 

After  a  while  the  lights  came  in,  and  Mary  pro- 


182  MAN  PROPOSES. 

posed  to  read  parts  of  a  certain  letter.  There 
was  the  usual  banter  between  the  brothers  as  to 
why  any  parts  should  be  omitted.  There  were 
the  proper  blushes  by  Mary,  and  the  gay-humored 
suggestions  by  Phoebe,  until  the  reading  began. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  183 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  reader  must  supply  what  Mary  called  the 

preliminary  "fringes   and   frills."      Remembering 

Mr.  Amory  and  his  butterflies,  we  can  imagine  he 

*had  caught  some  particularly  gorgeous  specimens 

for  his  inamorata. 

My AND OF  MY  ,  —  The  pas- 
sage of  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  Great  Lakes  has  been 
often  described.  I  should  weary  you  with  the  details,  if  I 
were  to  copy  from  my  note-book.  The  majestic  sheets  of 
water  deserve  to  be  called  oceans.  I  refer,  of  course,  to 
Lakes  Huron  and  Superior,  as  I  have  not  seen  Lake  Michi- 
gan. The  Greeks  and  Romans  had  no  knowledge  of  inland 
seas  so  large,  and  never  made  any  voyages  so  perilous  as 
that  from  Lake  St.  Clair  around  into  Lake  Michigan. 
These  immense  distances,  I  find,  do  have  an  influence  upon 
the  habit  of  thinking.  I  find  myself,  so  to  speak,  dilating, 
and  have  only  begun  to  appreciate  the  immensity  of  the 
country  we  live  in.  When  I  have  crossed  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, I  presume  I  shall  have  a  still  grander  conception. 

Well,  here  I  am  in  the  little  village  with  an  Indian 
name,  and  I  propose  to  remain  for  some  weeks.  You  proba- 
bly know,  my  ,  that  I  gave  some  attention  to 

mineralogy,  among  other  branches  of  natural  science.  This 
is  the  region  of  copper-mines.  Scores  of  fortunes  have 
been  made  here,  and  hundreds  of  fortunes  have  been  lost. 
It  seems  to  be  the  general  opinion  here  that  a  successful 
mine  is  a  sheer  piece  of  good  luck.  In  a  certain  way  I 


184  MAN  PROPOSES. 

believe  in  luck;  but  in  regard  to  matters  depending  on 
sharp  observation,  correct  deduction,  and  intelligent  action, 
there  is  very  little  of  it. 

What  I  am  now  writing  embodies  the  experience  of  sev- 
eral days.  I  have  been  walking  about  the  leaning  derricks 
and  crumbling  furnaces  of  several  abandoned  mines.  One 
is  called  the  "  Corinthian ;"  and  my  dear  old  governor,  Hugh 
Prescott,  was  its  chief  owner  and  promoter.  There  is  still 
a  little  office  of  one  story,  though  not  occupied ;  and  there 
is  a  dwelling-house,  in  which  a  custodian  lives,  rent  free,  for 
keeping  the  property  in  order.  In  order!  The  task  is  not 
harder  than  disciplining  a  gallery  of  mummies.  Every 
thing  is  as  dead  as  Pompeii.  From  all  I  can  see,  the  work 
done  was  as  intelligent  as  the  butting  of  a  ram.  Shafts 
were  driven  right  into  the  hill  on  a  venture.  If  they  hit 
veins  of  copper,  well;  if  not,  just  as  well;  for  the  company 
paid,  all  the  same.  The  observation  of  scientific  men,  the 
experience  of  skilful  miners,  and  the  traditions  of  the  abo- 
rigines, concur  in  the  statemen^  that  there  is  copper  here 
enough  to  supply  the  world.  I  propose  to  take  a  little 
time,  and  see  what  can  be  done. 

The  old  custodian  prefers  to  sit  in  the  house,  and  smoke 
his  pipe.  I  cannot  tempt  him  out;  but  I  have  walked 
over  the  property,  and  have  scaled  hills,  and  inspected 
ravines,  that  I  presume  no  one  has  trod  for  a  long  time 
before. 

Some  days  ago  I  was  looking  at  a  steep  acclivity  in  a 
remote  position,  on  which  there  was  an  unusual  growth  of 
bushes  and  small  trees.  "  Why,"  I  asked  myself,  "  is 
there  this  wealth  of  vegetation,  these  luxuriant  bunches  of 
shrubs?  " — "  Of  course  it  is  from  some  unusual  fertilization 
of  the  soil."  —  "But  why  was  this  rocky  place  fertilized?" 
—  "Because  men  have  at  some  time  haunted  it,  and  the 
remains  of  their  food  or  that  of  their  animals  have  accu- 
mulated here."  I  determined  to  explore. 

I  went  to  the  house,  got  an  axe  and  a  short,  stout 
scythe,  and  made  havoc  among  the  brush.  I  grubbed  up 


MAN  PROPOSES.  185 

roots,  and  picked  my  way  into  crevices.  By  and  by,  when 
the  bushes  were  cleared  away,  and  the  whole  face  of  the 
spur  of  the  hill  could  be  observed,  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
a  large  central  portion  was  composed  of  loam  and  sand  that 
had  fallen  or  settled  there,  while  the  ancient  rocks  stood 
out  on  either  side.  To  remove  that  detritus  of  loam  and 
sand  was  the  next  task.  I  dared  not  take  any  one  into  my 
confidence,  for  reasons  that  you  will  appreciate;  and  the 
whole  work  had  to  be  done  by  my  own  hands.  I  stole  a 
pick-axe,  a  hoe,  and  spade,  and  every  day  I  worked  steadily. 
In  a  week,  I  had  dug  away  the  alluvium,  and  come  to  the 
rocks.  I  was  amply  repaid.  There  were  marks  of  tools  on 
the  sides  of  the  opening  I  had  made.  Miners  had  wrought 
there.  These  were  proofs  of  the  correctness  of  my  theory. 
Before  long  I  had  opened  an  adit  that  had  been  closed,  per- 
haps for  hundreds  of  years,  by  the  earth  sliding  into  and 
before  it,  blocking  it  up.  It  was  an  entrance  that  had  been 
worked  by  intelligent  miners :  every  thing  showed  that. 
Cautiously  I  kept  at  work,  and  soon  came  against  a  solid 
wall  of  copper. 

I  don't  know  as  you  know  what  this  means ;  but  my 

!  I  can  tell  you.  It  means  unbounded  wealth.  It 

means  trips  to  Europe,  houses  in  upper-ten-dom,  libraries, 
yachts,  horses,  and  the  gratification  of  every  wish. 

You  have  noticed  that  I  mentioned  the  "  Corinthian." 
This  mountain  of  copper,  though  unworked  for  centuries, 
is  within  the  limits  of  that  property.  My  best  of  friends, 
as  I  have  said,  is  chief  owner.  The  outstanding  shares  I 
will  get  hold  of,  and  have  sent  to  a  shrewd  broker  to  buy 
them  for  me,  especially  Gibbs's.  I  wouldn't  miss  seeing  his 
rage  for  any  thing  on  earth.  I  mean  to  buy  them  for  about 
1£,  and  have  them  go  up  to  180.  It  will  be  a  glorious  spec- 
tacle to  see  him  tear  his  hair. 

"I  am  more  glad  than  I  can  tell  you,  for  the  sake  of  my 
good  friend,  Hugh  Prescott.  Before  this  reaches  you,  you 
will  have  heard  of  his  troubles.  Gibbs  has  him  tight  as  a 
Vise.  Gibbs  will  squeeze  him,  and  pitch  him  out.  This 


186  MAN  PROPOSES. 

discovery  is  going  to  save  him,  if  the  news  reaches  him  in 
season,  and  our  projects  can  take  firm  root.  The  same  mail 
that  takes  this  letter  will  carry  a  similar  one  to  him.  If  he 
bestirs  himself,  he  can  hoist  that  brute  of  a  Gibbs,  and 
make  him  retire,  singing  a  popular  melody. 

You  see,  I  can't  leave  here.  I  am  keeping  watch  over 
the  custodian,  lest  he  behold,  and  blab.  I  have  sent  for  two 
gallons  of  whiskey  and  two  pounds  of  smoking- tobacco  for 
him,  and  he  is  happy.  I  have  also  sent  East  for  a  trusty 
friend  to  come  on  instanter,  and  relieve  me  from  keeping 
guard  night  and  day.  When  I  have  bought  all  the  loose 
certificates  that  are  lying  round,  especially  Gibbs's,  I  will 
take  a  nap.  Hurrah  for  the  "  Corinthian  "  ! 

By  the  by,  my ,  I  am  troubled  to  think 

about  your  brother  Robert.  He  is  a  splendid,  magnificent 
fellow,  if  he  is  a  preacher;  and  I  am  sorry  for  his  bad  luck, 
as  well  as  uneasy  about  him.  Do  you  know  where  he  has 
gone  ?  I  know  he  said  he  was  going  to  foreign  parts ;  but 
I  have  always  heard,  that,  when  a  new  batch  of  missionaries 
leaves,  they  meet  on  the  wharf,  and  pray  and  sing,  and  give 
a  solemn  "send  off."  Now,  I  have  looked  at  the  New- York 
papers  (and  they  are  all  mailed  to  me),  under  the  head  of 
"  Religious  Intelligence,"  but  have  seen  no  mention  of  the 
Reverend  Robert.  Of  course  he  may  have  gone  quietly. 
But  I  should  like  to  be  assured  that  he  has  kept  his  balance, 
and  come  to  no  harm.  I  wish  he  could  be  here  with  me. 
We  two  could  run  this  machine. 

With of  my ,  and  with  a  thousand 

,  I  am  devotedly 

Your , 

G.  P.  AMORY. 

Probably  the  innocent  Mary,  as  she  concluded 
reading,  had  not  the  least  idea  what  a  bomb-shell 
she  had  dropped  in  that  quiet  party.  There  was 
a  missile  in  it  for  everybody.  The  revelation  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  187 

Hugh  Prescott's  affairs  produced  the  utmost  con- 
sternation. His  plan  of  breaking  the  news  gradu- 
ally to  his  wife  was  frustrated.  Solomon  now  saw 
why  the  old  house  was  being  repaired.  Aunt  Zer- 
uiah  had  recourse  to  Scripture  ;  and,  between  her 
sincere  sorrow  for  Hugh's  downfall  and  her  re- 
newed apprehensions  for  the  fate  of  her  son,  she 
could  hardly  remember  enough  texts  to  meet  the 
emergency.  It  was  Phoebe's  destiny  to  receive  a 
fresh  stab  at  every  turn.  The  two  Prescotts,  her 
vehement  lovers,  had  managed  so  ill  as  to  leave 
her  exposed  to  unjust  censure,  and  make  her  rela- 
tions with  their  families  most  unpleasant.  The 
two  mothers  sat  gazing  at  her,  —  the  one  looking 
like  "  a  section  of  the  day  of  judgment ; "  the 
other  dissolved  in  tears,  sobbing  hysterically,  now 
moaning  for  her  lost  son,  and  now  for  her  ruined 
husband.  It  was  noticeable  that  not  one  of  the 
company  appeared  to  place  much  confidence  in 
Amory's  discovery.  Being  a  poet,  he  was  consid- 
ered as  necessarily  a  flighty  person,  without  sound 
judgment  or  discretion.  Hugh  Prescott,  who  was 
the  one  most  vitally  interested,  had  listened  to  the 
letter  very  earnestly,  and  was  somewhat  affected 
by  the  writer's  enthusiasm ;  but  he  remembered 
that  many  similar  "  discoveries "  had  been  made 
that  afterwards  turned  out  to  be  of  no  practical 
value.  His  ruin  he  knew  was  a  certainty :  the 
rescue  by  the  rise  of  copper  stock  was  exceedingly 
problematical.  Besides,  the  time  in  which  he 
would  have  to  raise  the  money,  if  he  attempted 


188  MAN  PROPOSES. 

to  pay  off  Gibbs,  and  save  the  business,  was  now 
very  short ;  and  the  value  of  the  Corinthian  stock 
could  not  be  really  established,  except  upon  the  evi- 
dence of  a  scientific  expert. 

Phoebe  was  at  first  overwhelmed  solely  with 
the  thought  of  her  protector's  situation.  While 
she  had  lived  with  him,  she  had  never  known  a 
want.  Money  had  been  as  natural  and  as  plenty 
as  Cochituate :  it  was  only  touching  the  knob  of 
a  faucet.  The  thought  of  living  upon  a  narrow 
income,  of  counting  the  price  of  dresses,  or  of 
supplying  such  wants  by  the  sale  of  eggs  and 
chickens,  had  never  occurred  to  her.  Poverty, 
like  death,  was  an  ugly  subject,  to  be  kept  in  the 
background :  now  its  grim  visage  was  appallingly 
near.  But  her  courage  rose ;  and  she  was  ready 
to  meet  what  was  inevitable  in  a  far  nobler  spirit 
than  Mrs.  Prescott  could  show.  But  the  mother's 
laments  for  Roderick,  and  the  solemn  looks  of  the 
mother  of  Robert,  were  too  much.  How  was  she 
to  explain  to  the  one  the  unutterable  things  that 
had  preceded  Roderick's  going  away  ?  And  what 
right  had  that  stern  Hebrew  to  assume  that  her 
preacher  son  had  any  claim  upon  a  fresh  young- 
girl  ?  How  could  she  unfold  the  intricacy  of  feel- 
ing with  which  she  had  regarded  that  religious 
enthusiast  ?  How  could  she  explain  that  all  the 
feeling  of  love  which  the  glowing  man  might  have 
inspired  was  quenched  by  the  solemnity  of  the 
preacher?  She  pitied  the  mother  of  Roderick, 
though  she  saw  her  weakness ;  but  she  was  rather 


MAN  PROPOSES.  189 

indignant  with  the  mother  of  Robert,  who,  with 
her  implacable  Old-Testament  wrath,  sat  corrus- 
cating  and  frowning  at  her  across  the  room.  It 
was  an  unequal  strife.  Phoebe  soon  touched  the 
arm  of  Mary,  and  the  two  girls  retired  to  their 
chamber. 

There  a  long  conversation  followed,  in  which 
Phoebe  opened  her  heart  to  her  friend ;  and,  when 
at  a  very  late  hour  sleep  came,  the  two  girls  were 
locked  in  each  other's  arms. 

Mrs.  Prescott  had  sobbed  herself  into  helpless- 
ness, and  was  persuaded  to  go  to  bed.  Her  large 
blue  eyes  seemed  to  have  been  made  for  weeping, 
and  her  soft  and  flexible  lips  were  always  under 
the  dominion  of  some  emotion. 

The  brothers  walked  out  into  the  front-yard, 
and  talked  under  the  shade-trees  till  bed-time. 
Aunt  Zeruiah  was  left  to  herself,  a  Nemesis  whose 
retributions  now  fell  chiefly  on  her  own  head. 

It  was  a  sorrowful  group  that  met  for  breakfast 
next  morning.  The  interval  of  rest  had  brought 
no  healing  to  sore  hearts.  The  visit  of  which  so 
much  was  anticipated  became  dismal  in  reality. 
There  was  no  way  to  restore  harmony,  still  less  to 
bring  cheerfulness  or  gayety.  Mr.  Prescott  pro- 
posed to  return  to  the  city  to  look  after  the 
expected  letter  from  Amory,  but  persuaded  his 
wife  to  stay  until  the  servants  could  come  with  a 
portion  of  the  furniture  for  the  refitted  house. 
Phoebe  also  determined  to  go.  She  could  not 
bear  to  be  the  focus  of  those  two  pairs  of  eyes; 


190  MAN  PROPOSES. 

and  she  did  not  know  which  gave  her  the  most 
pain.  She  would  go  to  stay  with  Miss  Thorpe 
until  there  was  a  calmer  atmosphere  on  the  old 
hill. 

After  their  departure  by  the  early  train,  uncle 
Solomon  got  his  team,  sent  for  some  hands  to 
help,  and  spent  the  day  in  putting  the  yard  and 
garden  of  his  brother's  house  in  order.  He  trans- 
ported corned  beef,  pork,  and  vegetables  for  his 
cellar,  hay  and  grain  for  his  barn,  set  up  a  cook- 
ing-stove in  the  kitchen  in  the  lean-to,  and  got  a 
stock  of  groceries  from  the  store  in  the  village ;  so 
that  the  house  was  ready  for  occupancy.  Mary 
stole  down  the  hill  with  bunches  of  azaleas  and 
other  flowers,  and  disposed  them  in  vases  and 
pitchers,  opened  the  windows  to  air  the  rooms, 
and  put  away  the  articles  in  the  closets. 

The  two  disconsolate  mothers  meanwhile  had  a 
sorry  time. 

Mary,  simple-hearted  creature,  had  not  under- 
stood why  the  letter  that  to  her  was  so  full  of 
promise  should  have  given  every  one  such  a 
shock. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  191 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ON  the  way  to  the  city  Phoebe  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  meditate.  Her  position  was  becoming 
very  disagreeable.  She  could  not  take  up  her 
abode  with  Miss  Thorpe  without  wounding  the 
feelings  of  her  old  friends ;  and  she  was  beginning 
to  feel  that  she  ought  not  to  be  a  pensioner  upon 
the  bounty  of  any  one.  With  the  Prescotts  she 
must  be  perpetually  reminded  of  the  double  mis- 
chance ;  and  she  did  not  know  which  was  the 
more  painful  to  bear,  —  the  somewhat  ostentatious 
sorrow  of  the  one  bereaved  mother,  or  the  stern 
and  unrelenting  disfavor  of  the  other.  If  she  be- 
came wholly  an  inmate  of  her  foster-father's 
house  in  Eaglemont,  she  would  constantly  encoun- 
ter either  the  sighing  Episcopalian,  or  the  frowning 
Calvinistic  dame.  It  was  not  to  be  borne.  She 
had  tried  it ;  and,  much  as  she  loved  her  dear  and 
fatherly  protector,  she  shrunk  from  returning  to 
the  country  with  him,  either  in  his  prosperity  or 
adversity.  She  pondered;  and  when  she  took  a 
carriage  at  the  station,  after  leaving  Mr.  Prescott, 
she  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  to  Signer  Bel- 
vedere's rooms. 

The  master  was  voluble,  as  usual,  and  profuse  in 


192  MAN  PROPOSES. 

compliment,  as  became  a  man  of  his  race  and  cul- 
ture. Phoebe  carefully  opened  the  matter,  and 
asked  him  what  she  could  do  to  support  herself. 
"  And  you  really,  really,  Meess  Phaybe,  wish  to 
work,  to  teach  ?  " 

"  I  really,  really  do." 

"  It  is  a  most  serious  thing.  You  are  tender  in 
feeling,  and  you  are-a  proud  too.  It  will  not  be 
life  in  a  rose-garden  for  you  to  teach  the  indiffer- 
ents,  the  incapables,  and  the  insolents.  Many  and 
hateful  characters  are  group-ed  in  schools;  "and 
the  teachers  get  all  the  hatefulness." 

"  I  am  prepared,  and  will  try." 

"Well-a,  then,  I  rejoice  to  tell  you  there  is  a 
chance.  The  new  collegium  puellarum  needs  a 
teacher  of  music.  "Who  can  play  better?  Who 
can  sing  so  well  ?  Yes,  my  dear-a  Phaybe,  — 
Meess  Phaybe,  I  should  say, — the  head  of  the  col- 
lege has  done  me  the  honor  to  consult  me.  I  will 
hasten  to  him  and  announce,  that,  after  much 
persuasion,  I  have  induced  a  very  lovely  and  ac- 
complish-ed  youngg  lady,  moving  in-a  the  selectest 
circles  of  the  "haul  ton,  to  accept  the  situation  in 
his-a  college.  I  shall  represent  that  the  appoint- 
ment will-a  confer  lustre  upon  the  new  and  risingg 
institution,  and  that  I  am  prepar-ed  to  receive  his 
congratulations  for  the  great  favor  I  have-a  done 
him." 

Phoebe  had  gone  to  him  in  her  grim  mood,  and 
had  meant  to  be  as  resolute  as  one  of  the  Fates ; 
but  his  raillery  conquered,  and  she  laughed  heart- 

ay- 


MAN  PROPOSES.'  193 

"  And  do  you  think  I  can  make  good  your  mag- 
nificent commendations?  You  cover  me  with 
loads  of  roses." 

"  With  rose-leaves,  Meess  Phaybe,  to  judge  from 
the  beautiful  flush  that-a  covers  your  lovely 
cheeks." 

"  To  be  serious  for  a  moment,  let  me  say,  that  to 
know  how  to  sing  or  play  is  one  thing ;  to  teach 
is  quite  another." 

"  Ah,  instinct  is  a  great  matter,  as  your  Shake- 
a-speare's  Falstaff  says.  You  will  not-a  have  diffi- 
culty. Put  yourself  in  the  pupil's  place.  Remem- 
ber your  own  trials.  Besides,  I  will  go  over  the 
method,  not  as  before,  but  with  a  view  to  make 
you  the  instructor." 

"  So  you  think  I  can  do  it?  " 

"  Certainly.  It  will  be  necessary,  that,  when  the 
faculty  see  a  white  raven,  you  see  one  too ;  that 
is,  a  certain  deference  to  the  opinion  of  the  people 
in  power  is  to  be  commended.  They  may  know 
nothing ;  but  you  must-a  treat  them  as  if  they 
were  Solomons  and  Lord-a  Bacons.  Perhaps  you 
are  orthodox  (it  is  a  hard  word  to  say,  and  I 
don't-a  know  what  it  means)  ;  but,  if  you  are  not, 
it  is  not-a  necessary  that  you  publish  it  by  sound 
of  trumpet  on  the  house-top.  It  is  just  as  well 
to  be  in  favor  —  and  then  to  think  in  petto  what 
you  like." 

With  his  usual  celerity  and  good-fortune,  Sig- 
nor  Belvedere  went  and  obtained  the  place,  and 
came  in  the  evening  to  Miss  Thorpe's  to  announce 


194  MAN  PROPOSES. 

his  success.  He  had  arranged  that  she  was  to  pass 
Saturday  and  Sunday  in  the  city ;  and  that  was 
some  consolation  to  Miss  Thorpe,  who  at  first  had 
been  strongly  against  the  project.  Phoebe  was 
firm,  and  chiefly  because  she  felt  she  was  right. 
Let  come  what  would  she  was  now  independent, 
and  would  neither  burden  Mr.  Prescott,  nor  hum- 
ble herself  by  subsisting  upon  the  bounty  of  a 
newly-found  friend.  She  was  to  enter  upon  her 
duties  at  the  beginning  of  the  new  term,  now  not 
far  distant. 

Mr.  Prescott  found  no  letter  from  Amory. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  the  letter  had  been 
written ;  but  who  can  account  for  the  mistakes  of 
the  post-office,  and  explain  why  a  plainly  directed 
epistle  sometimes  makes  the  round  of  half  the 
States  in  the  Union  before  it  comes  to  its  proper 
destination  ?  He  wrote  to  Amory,  but  knew,  that, 
before  an  answer  could  be  received,  the  time  for 
his  settlement  with  Gibbs  would  come.  Daily 
he  thought  of  the  missing  letter ;  but  no  tidings 
came.  Still  he  thought  best  to  get  all  the  mining 
shares  he  could  into  his  possession,  and  through  a 
broker  he  secured  all  that  could  be  found,  includ- 
ing those  which  Gibbs  had.  They  cost  but  a 
trifle,  and  would  add  but  little  to  his  losses,  even 
if  Amory's  hopes  were  fallacious.  He  was  ready 
to  take  advantage  of  fortune  if  the  fickle  goddess 
did  not  again  elude  him. 

He  sent  up  the  furniture  by  rail  in  charge  of 
two  servants,  dismissed  the  others,  sold  his  horses, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  195 

and  shut  up  his  town  house.  A  fortnight  re- 
mained, and  he  resolved  to  spend  that  interval  in 
the  country.  Among  the  letters  he  carried  to  his 
wife  was  one  that  attracted  his  attention  by  its 
size  and  by  the  foreign  stamps  and  seal.  This  he 
handed  to  her  on  his  arrival,  and  waited  for  her  to 
read  it.  He  saw  with  pleasure  how  thoroughly 
his  wishes  had  been  carried  out  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  house,  and  thought,  if  the  downfall 
came,  he  could  scarcely  desire  a  more  comfortable 
home. 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  absent  but  a  few  minutes ; 
but  on  her  return  her  face  was  a  miracle  of  sur- 
prise and  joy. 

"  I  never  wanted  to  keep  any  secrets  from  you," 
she  exclaimed  ;  "  but  Miss  Thorpe  thought  it  pru- 
dent to  keep  this  matter  private  for  a  time,  as  the 
interests  involved  were  so  near  and  dear,  and  we 
didn't  wish  to  have  any  hopes  raised  until  there 
was  a  sure  ground  for  them.  But  this  is  too  good 
news.  I  fear  it  can't  be  true.  I  always  felt 
drawn  to  that  darling.  I  didn't  suspect  she  was 
my  own  flesh  and  blood." 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  so  excited,  that,  in  trying  to 
read  the  letter,  it  dropped  from  her  hand. 
"  Read  it,  my  dear,"  she  said :  "  I  can't  command 
myself." 

Mr.  Prescott  picked  up  the  letter,  and  carefully 
read  the  first  pages.  When  he  had  reached  a  cer- 
tain point  he  was  quite  as  excited  as  his  wife.  He 
lost  his  spectacles,  found  them  on  the  top  of  his 


196  MAN  PROPOSES. 

head,  pulled  out  his  handkerchief,  laid  it  on  the 
table,  folded  the  letter  instead,  and  crammed  it  in 
his  pocket,  all  the  time  walking  about,  and  plying 
his  wife  with  questions.  A  happier  couple  was 
never  seen.  They  embraced  each  other,  cried, 
kissed,  tried  to  look  over  the  letter  again ;  but 
neither  could  read  a  line :  and  at  length  they  sat 
down,  side  by  side,  hand  in  hand,  like  two  young 
lovers,  and  talked  no  end  of  nonsensical  endear- 
ment. 

The  purport  of  the  letter  was  this.  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott's  brother,  Roderick  Manning,  a  year  younger 
than  herself,  had  many  years  ago  married  an 
Italian  opera-singer,  —  a  young  widow  with  a  title, 
still  in  her  first  bloom,  and  with  an  unblemished 
fame.  But  the  marriage  had  cost  the  young  man 
his  father's  favor.  He  was  cast  off,  and  left  un- 
provided for.  He  fell  into  evil  habits,  especially 
gambling,  and  absorbed  all  his  wife's  earnings  to 
gratify  his  fatal  passion.  A  child  was  born  to 
them  ;  and  the  husband,  for  a  time,  gave  up  vice, 
and  became  a  more  thoughtful  and  provident 
man.  But  the  wife  lost  her  voice  and  her  energy, 
and  could  appear  no  more  in  public  ;  and,  as  noth- 
ing had  been  saved  in  the  time  of  her  success,  the 
road  to  starvation  and  misery  was  very  short. 
They  disappeared,  and  it  was  believed  they  had 
gone  to  America. 

The  story  told  by  Mrs.  Maloney  seemed  to  fur- 
nish the  sequel.  There  was  as  yet  no  legal  proof, 
but  a  high  degree  of  probability.  Mrs.  Prescott 


MAN  PROPOSES.  197 

then  reminded  her  husband  of  Miss  Thorpe V 
advertisement  for  the  lost  prayer-book.  If  that 
book  could  be  found,  the  evidence  would  be  com- 
plete. 

"  By  George,  I  have  it ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pres- 
cott.  "  Why  didn't  Miss  Thorpe  go  to  the  anti- 
quarian bookstore?  —  Benham,  you  know,  who 
keeps  those  stacks  of  old  books  that  you  wonder 
what  they  are  good  for.  Why,  he  knows  every 
volume  in  the  shop.  Try  him ;  and  he  will  scratch 
his  head  a  moment,  then  go  up  a  ladder,  and 
in  ten  seconds  put  his  hand  on  the  book  you  ask 
for.  He  buys  every  thing  that  offers :  nothing 
comes  amiss.  Ten  to  one  he  has  that  prayer-book 
now." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  write  to  Miss  Thorpe  ?  " 

"  I  will,  at  once.  But  let  me  look  at  that  letter 
again." 

He  read  it  again,  and  this  time  to  the  end.  It 
appeared  that  Phoebe  would  be  entitled,  when  the 
necessary  proof  was  furnished,  —  and  this  part 
was  underscored,  —  to  a  legacy  of  ten  thousand 
pounds,  and  that  she  with  Mrs.  Prescott  were  also 
heirs  presumptive  to  the  writer  of  the  letter. 
Then  were  renewed  the  embraces  of  the  pair  of 
elderly  lovers.  When  they  became  sober  again,  a 
letter  was  written  and  despatched  to  Miss  Thorpe. 
It  gave  a  brief  epitome  of  Mr.  Ralph  Manning's 
letter,  and  recommended  her  to  go  to  Beuham's 
bookstore  at  once. 

Miss  Thorpe,  upon  reading  the   news,  was   as 


198  MAN  PROPOSES. 

much  excited  as  her  nature  would  allow ;  but  she 
carefully  concealed  from  Phoebe  her  feelings  and 
the  letter.  It  was  mid-day ;  and  upon  some  pre- 
tence she  left  the  house,  and  with  trembling  steps 
went  towards  the  bookstore.  Much  as  Miss 
Thorpe  repelled  the  idea  of  married  life,  she  pos- 
sessed a  warm  heart ;  and  her  feelings  towards 
Phoebe  were  like  those  of  a  mother.  Day  by  day 
the  ties  had  grown  stronger;  and  she  had  an 
almost  feverish  hope  that  the  girl  might  prove  to 
be  her  niece,  the  daughter  of  her  unfortunate  sis- 
ter. In  any  event,  the  position  of  Phoebe  was 
what  the  position  of  her  sister's  child  would  have 
been.  That  fact  alone  enlisted  her  sympathy ;  and 
who  could  say,  from  the  little  that  was  known, 
whether  the  report  that  her  sister  had  died  child- 
less was  not  a  conjecture  ?  True,  the  mother  of 
Phcebe  had  an  Italian  name ;  but  did  not  the  same 
report  say  that  she  was  a  widow,  a  widow  with  a 
title,  when  she  married  the  young  Englishman? 
Her  sister  in  youth  had  greatly  resembled  Phoebe  ; 
she  had  lived  for  years  in  Italy,  so  as  to  become 
like  an  Italian  in  speech  and  manner ;  she  had 
been  in  her  day  a  prima  donna,  and  had  married  a 
degenerate  Italian  noble.  Phcebe  might  be  her  sis- 
ter's child,  after  all.  The  thought  almost  took 
away  her  breath,  and  made  her  limbs  tremble  be- 
neath her.  Who  shall  blame  the  childless  woman, 
now  that  the  tendrils  of  her  heart  were  twined 
about  this  girl,  if  she  hoped  and  prayed  that  the 
whole  story  might  prove  to  be  a  fiction,  unless  the 


MAN  PROPOSES.  199 

part  in  which  she  was  interested,  the  name  of 
the  mother,  should  be  established  as  well  as  that 
of  the  father  ?  She  could  not  give  her  up. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  explain  how  the  mind  of 
a  bookseller  retains  the  thousands  of  titles:  it  is 
enough,  that,  upon  being  asked  for  the  Italian 
prayer-book  by  Miss  Thorpe,  Mr.  Benham  went 
into  a  corner,  and  brought  it  out.  Her  prognosti- 
cations as  to  its  size  and  appearance  were  nearly 
correct ;  only  the  covers  were  limp,  and  fastened 
by  a  simple  leathern  strap ;  and  in  one  side  there 
was  a  receptacle  just  large  enough  to  admit  a 
visiting-card.  Miss  Thorpe  turned  away  as  she 
observed  this,  so  that  the  bookseller  might  not  see 
her  emotion.  She  drew  out  a  thin  piece  of  paper, 
—  so  it  seemed, — so  thin  as  to  have  escaped 
notice.  Her  breath  came  quick  as  she  took  it. 

It  was  a  card,  worn  and  soiled ;  but  the  inscrip- 
tion was  still  legible.  There  was  a  faint  outline  of 
a  coronet  at  the  top,  and  below  were  the  words, 
"LA  CONTESSA  DELLA  TORRE."  Who  was  the 
countess?  At  that  moment  Miss  Thorpe  would 
have  given  her  whole  fortune  to  have  read  there, 
"  nata  Thorpe ; "  but  there  was  nothing  more  to 
be  seen.  She  turned  the  card.  Lines  seemed 
struggling  into  view ;  but  the  glazed  and  grimy 
surface  made  them  indistinct,  and  the  sorrowful 
lady's  eyes  were  dim  with  tears.  Yes,  the  high 
priestess  of  intellect  had  succumbed  to  an  emo- 
tion :  the  serene,  high  head  was  bowed,  and  she 
wept  like  another  woman.  She  put  the  card  in 


200  MAN  PROPOSES. 

her  own  case,  intending  to  scan  it  more  closely  at 
home.  She  paid  the  bookseller  the  price  charged. 
He  had  not  noticed  the  advertised  reward,  and 
now  refused  to  take  the  large  sum  offered. 

While  returning  home,  Miss  Thorpe  recovered 
her  mental  discipline  ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  lave 
her  hot  face,  and  cool  her  inflamed  eyes.  After  a 
time,  she  came  into  the  library,  where  Phoebe  was 
sitting,  and  chatted  pleasantly  about  the  books 
and  periodicals. 

Phcebe  thought  her  singularly  alert  in  feeling 
and  manner.  Her  mental  movements  seemed  like 
those  of  the  needle  when  agitated  by  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  magnet, — trembling,  aiming,  swerv- 
ing, poising,  and  still  returning  to  its  polar  alle- 
giance. Still  Miss  Thorpe  thought  herself  calm, 
until,  in  preparing  her  microscope  for  use,  she  was 
compelled  to  see  that  her  hands  were  quite  un- 
steady. She  stopped  a  moment  to  recover  herself, 
and  asked  Bridget  to  go  for  Mrs.  Maloney. 

Phcebe  wondered  at  the  agitation  ;  but  she  had 
learned  to  control  herself  in  Miss  Thorpe's  society, 
and  never  disturbed  her  friend  by  questions.  After 
some  meditation,  Miss  Thorpe  said,  "  You  remem- 
ber, Phcebe,  what  I  have  told  you  about  my  beau- 
tiful sister.  I  told  you  she  became  a  great  singer, 
and  married  a  man  of  rank,  but  a  man  unworthy 
of  her,  and  that  after  a  season  of  married  life,  full 
of  pain  and  trouble,  she  died.  You  know  I  said 
she  had  no  child  (that  was  the  report)  ;  but  I  have 
doubted  it.  You  certainly  look  very  much  as  she 
did,  and  her  name  was  Phcebe." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  201 

The  girl's  eyes  sparkled  with  a  sudden  anima- 
tion. 

"Do  you  know  any  thing  more  now?  Have 
you  any  news  ?  Oh,  if  it  could  be  true  !  " 

"  Then  you  would  like  to  have  it  true  ?  " 

"Of  all  things!"  she  answered  eagerly.  "You 
are  like  a  mother  to  me  ;  though,  to  be  sure,  Mrs. 
Prescott  has  been  a  mother  too.  But  I  hope  you 
have  something  to  tell  me.  If  you  were  truly  my 
aunt,  how  I  should  love  you !  " 

"  And  don't  you  love  me  now  ?  " 

"  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart ;  but  if  you  were 
my  aunt,  you  know,  my  poor  mother's  sister,  my 
own  blood,  why  I  should  have  a  better  right  to 
love  you.  Now,  while  I  am  not  your  relative,  your 
love  to  me  is  a  little  like  a  charity,  and  I  feel  I 
don't  deserve  it ;  and  though  I  am  grateful,  and 
I  know  how  good  you  are,  yet  —  yet  I  am  not  en- 
titled to  the  least  thing.  It  makes  a  difference, 
doesn't  it  ?  I  know  I  shouldn't  be  entitled  to  any 
thing,  even  as  your  niece ;  but  it  wouldn't  be  so 
unusual.  No  one  likes  always  to  take  favors  and 
kindness  that  can  never  be  returned." 

"  I  hope  your  heart  will  be  always  where  it  is 
now.  I  want  you  to  love  me,  whether  it  turns  out 
that  I  am  your  aunt  or  not.  Tell  me  that  you 
will." 

"  I  always  shall." 

"  Even  if  your  father  s  relatives  claim  you  ?  " 

"  No  one  shall  ever  come  between  us.  Of 
course,  if  I  find  my  father's  people,  I  shall  owe 


202  MAN  PROPOSES. 

something  to  them.  But  I  can  never  forget  you, 
never." 

She  seized  Miss  Thorpe's  hand  to  kiss  it ;  but 
the  nervous  little  woman  drew  the  unresisting 
girl  down  to  her  side  upon  the  sofa,  and,  putting 
her  arm  round  her  waist,  drew  her  to  her  bosom, 
and  kissed  her  fondly.  It  had  been  many  a  year 
since  Miss  Thorpe  had  kissed  any  one,  even  of 
her  own  sex.  Miss  Thorpe  now  brought  out  the 
missal  and  the  card,  but  held  them  in  her  own 
hands. 

"  Before  I  tell  you  about  these,  will  you  please 
read  this  card  ?  " 

Phoebe  took  it,  and  read  aloud,  "  LA  CONTESSA 
BELLA  TORRE."  Miss  Thorpe,  by  a  great  effort, 
then  asked  her  to  look  at  the  reverse.  The  writ- 
ing was  not  clear,  even  to  Phoebe's  fine  vision :  so 
the  card  was  put  under  the  microscope.  "  Tell 
me  what  you  see.  Begin  at  the  top,  and  give  it 
in  order." 

Phoebe  read  hesitatingly  these  names :  — 

"  Febe Ludovico. 

Febe  Maria  Isabella,  rosabella. 

Roderick  Manning. 
Febe  della  T.  Manning,  nata  "  — 

But  great  currents  of  blood  were  surging 
through  Phoebe's  heart,  dizzying  her  brain,  and 
flushing  scarlet  her  cheeks.  She  could  be  re- 
strained no  longer. 

"  And  this  was  my  mother's  !  "  She  kissed  the 
soiled  paper.  The  rush  of  emotion  choked  her. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  203 

Then  tears  came.  Then  she  grew  paler,  and  sat 
down  overcome. 

Miss  Thorpe  wished  she  had  not  been  so  abrupt ; 
but  she  soothed  her,  and  soon  had  the  delight  of 
seeing  her  natural  color  return. 

"  You  have  not  asked  me  about  these  names, 
and  I  have  no  certain  information  to  give  you ; 
but  I  think  this  is  the  explanation  :  The  names 
*  Febe  '  and  '  Ludovico  '  are  coupled,  showing  the 
first  marriage,  —  Febe  (somebody)  and  Ludovico, 
Count  della  Torre ;  for  your  mother  was  a  count- 
ess and  a  widow  when  she  married  your  father. 
That  is  his  name,  as  I  believe,  —  '  Roderick  Man- 
ning.' We  know  at  least  that  Mrs.  Prescott  had 
a  brother  Roderick  (for  whom  her  son  was  named), 
who  married  an  Italian  countess,  formerly  a  pub- 
lic singer,  and  was  cast  off  by  his  family.  '  Febe 
Maria  Isabella '  of  course  is  your  own  name. 
'  Rosabella '  may  have  been  a  transient  word  of 
affection  for  you  —  beautiful  rose —  as  she  wrote 
your  name." 

Then  she  set  Phoebe  at  a  little  distance,  to  look 
at  her.  It  was  a  perpetual  pleasure  to  observe  the 
"  pure  and  eloquent  blood "  in  her  cheeks,  the 
delicate  play  of  emotion  about  her  beautiful  lips, 
and  the  lively  but  humid  brilliancy  of  her  eyes. 
She  was  a  being  formed  to  love. 

"Phcebe,"  she  said,  "I  suppose  there  is  now 
very  little  doubt  that  your  father's  name  and 
family  have  been  ascertained." 

"  That   is   what   Signer   Belvedere    said,"    she 


204  MAN  PROPOSES. 

replied,  with  a  kindling  interest,  —  "  an  English 
father  and  an  Italian  mother." 

"  He  was  of  a  good  family ;  and  the  head  of  it, 
who  is  now  an  elderly  man  without  children,  has 
lately  written  in  answer  to  a  letter  of  inquiry. 
Some  legal  formalities  have  to  be  gone  through 
with;  but,  if  the  truth  prevails,  you  will  soon 
come  into  possession  of  a  sum  sufficient  for  your 
support.  I  fear  they  will  want  you  to  go  over 
there." 

"  And  leave  you  ?  Never  !  The  family  probably 
cast  my  parents  off,  and  left  my  mother  to  die.  I 
owe  them  nothing.  You  and  Mrs.  Prescott  have 
been  like  mothers  to  me.  I  will  never  leave  you, 
not  even  for  a  fortune." 

"  I  don't  know  —  I  trust  you  won't.  But  a  for- 
tune and  position  are  very  tempting." 

"  Well,  if  I  have  •  a  fortune,  I  shall  be  my  own 
mistress  in  a  year,  and  I  can  do  as  I  like.  And, 
if  I  have  to  go  over,  I'll  take  you  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Prescott  with  me." 

"  Mrs.  Prescott,  I  have  no  doubt,  would  like  to 
visit  her  old  home." 

"Yes!"  said  the  girl,  with  a  sudden  burst  of 
enthusiasm ;  "  and  they  shall  go.  Mr.  Prescott 
has  lost  all,  only  his  house  and  books  and  furni- 
ture. He  is  too  old  to  begin  business  again.  Oh, 
if  I  could  now  take  care  of  him,  and  make  him 
comfortable  !  Shall  I  have  enough  ?  " 

"I  hope  so.  And  you  would  find  your  visit 
with  them  very  pleasant.  You  would  go  to  the 


MAN  PROPOSES.  205 

same  neighborhood,  to  the  same  house ;  for,  do 
you  comprehend?  you  are  a  Manning,  a  descend- 
ant of  the  great  admiral,  Mrs.  Prescott's  niece." 

"  And  Roderick  is  my  cousin ;  and  Robert  — 
no,  Robert  is  not." 

"  Yes,  Roderick;  is  your  cousin ;  and  cousins 
should  not  marry." 

Phoebe  answered  only  by  an  untranslatable 
glance ;  but  in  a  moment  she  returned  in  thought 
to  the  card.  "  After  all,  I  don't  know  any  more 
about  my  mother.  Who  was  the  Countess  della 
Torre?" 

"  I  cannot  answer  you,"  said  Miss  Thorpe  sadly. 
"  Only  she  was  young,  a  singer,  and  a  widow  when 
she  married  your  father.  I  could  never  trace  my 
poor  sister." 

Phcebe  looked  at  the  face  of  the  woman  who 
was  hungering  for  affection,  and  thought  with  a 
great  throb  what  a  joy  it  would  be  if  her  mother 
should  really  have  been  that  lost  sister. 

But  now  came  Mrs.  Maloney,  and  looked  at  the 
book.  "  O  Blissed  Virgin !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  and 
that  is  the  same !  Oh,  truly,  Miss  Phayba,  that 
was  your  mother's  !  Niver  paert  with  it ;  and  say 
your  prayers  out  uv  it,  my  daerlin',  as  your  mother 
did.  They  made  her  soul  aisy,  anyhow.  An'  she 
told  me  she  was  born  a  Protestant." 

Then,  looking  with  glistening  eyes  on  the  card, 
*  Ah !  An'  there  is  the  name  that  my  poor  head 
couldn't  remember."  She  was  turning  it  over, 
and  looking  at  it  upside  down  mostly,  having  de- 
ciphered nothing  but  the  coronet. 


206  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  An'  that's  to  show  she  was  to  be  a  saint  in 
heaven.  The  holy  mother  and  the  angels  in  the 
pictures  always  has  thim  gold  hoops  over  their 
heads." 

Phoebe  and  Miss  Thorpe  exchanged  faint  smiles, 
but  did  not  enlighten  her  upon  the  difference  be- 
tween the  coronet  and  an  angelic  halo. 

"  An'  to  think  that  I  couldn't  rmembeer  the 
name  ! "  Miss  Thorpe  gave  a  signal  of  silence  to 
Phoebe.  Mrs.  Maloney  might  become  garrulous, 
if  she  knew  the  story. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Phoebe  :  "  it  is  no  matter 
now.  And  when  I  have  a  home  of  my  own,  —  and 
that  will  not  be  long,  —  I  shall  have  a  place  in  it 
for  yx)u  as  long  as  you  live.  I  have  been  so  sorry 
that  I  could  do  no  more  for  you  while  I  was  with 
Mrs.  Prescott ;  but  I  had  nothing  of  my  own.  It 
will  soon  be  different;  and  then,  Mrs.  Maloney, 
you  good  soul !  then  you  will  know  that  I  remem- 
ber my  friends." 

This  was  something  of  an  effort  for  Phoebe  ;  but 
she  spoke  with  an  earnestness  that  showed  the 
depth  of  her  feelings.  Mrs.  Maloney  was  profuse 
in  her  thanks  and  her  blessings ;  and  it  was  with 
considerable  delay  and  friction  that  she  took  her 
departure. 

"Now,"  said  Miss  Thorpe,  "we  must  reply  to 
Mr.  Prescott's  letter,  and  inform  them  of  the  dis- 
covery ;  but,  for  many  reasons,  I  would  advise  you 
to  keep  this  a  secret  from  your  other  friends,  for 
the  present.  Perhaps  you  might  make  an  excep- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  207 

tion  in  favor  of  Signer  Belvedere,  first  binding 
him  to  silence.  As  he  must  have  known  most  of 
the .  famous  singers  of  twenty  years  ago,  he  may 
be  able  to  tell  us  who  the  Countess  della  Torre 
was." 

Phoebe  saw  the  wisdom  of  the  advice ;  but  she 
almost  fluttered  like  a  bird  in  her  impatience, 
until  she  could  see  her  teacher,  and  impart  to  him 
the  wonderful  news.  Her  mother  a  countess ! 
Surely  an  educated  Italian  gentleman  must  know 
the  family  names  of  the  nobility. 

But  Signor  Belvedere  was  strangely  cool  or 
non-committal.  "  Yes,  Meess  Phaybe,"  he  said,  "  I 
have-a  heard  of  the  Della  Torres,  —  an  old  and 
respectable  family.  But  that  any  one  of  its  coun- 
tesses should  be  a  singer,  and  should  drift  across 
the  Atlantic  to  die  alone  in  a  tenement-house,  is, 
at  the  least,  very  surprising.  Do  not  a-believe  it, 
my  dear  youngg  lady,  until  it  is  prov-ed.  We  will 
inquire.  Be  calm.  The  heart  of  youth  should 
reache  forward  more  than  backward.  I  think, 
however,  you  will  yet  know  your  parents." 

Phoebe  was  silent,  meditative :  evidently  she 
had  something  more  to  say.  The  master  saw,  but 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  It  will  a-come  out,"  he 
might  have  said. 

"  It  is  some  time  since  you  were  in  Italy,  is  it 
not?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !     A  do-zen  years  and  more." 

"  Do  you  never  think  of  going  back  ?  " 

"Of  course,  some  time.     My  parents  are  dead 


208  MAN  PROPOSES. 

some  years  ?  but  I  have  a  sister  and  brother,  and 
I  don't  know  how  many  nephews  and  nieces." 
"  And  you  say  you  knew  the  Delia  Torres  ?  " 
"  And-a  what  does  all  this  mean,  Meess  Phaybe  ?  " 
Phoebe  was  not  in  the  least  confused,  but  looked 
at  him  with  a  soft  and  steady  gaze,  as  if  her  eyes 
had  been  two  stars. 

"  I  would  not  put  my  burdens  on  others  ;  but 
think  how  a  girl  must  feel  who  has  not  a  mother ! 
How  I  should  adore  the  man  who  found  her  for 
me,  although  I  am  never  to  see  her !  The  gleam 
of  light  from  that  prayer-book,  —  it  is  like  a  ray 
from  heaven.  Can't  I  trace  that  book?  Its  worn 
and  soiled  leather  is  fragrant  to  me.  It  was  my 
mother's,  you  know,  —  my  mother's.  I  must  fol- 
low the  trace.  I  have  thought  that  some  time  you 
would  make  a  visit  to  your  native  land,  and  "  — 

"  And  —  and,  my  dear  Phaybe,  in  the  God's 
good  time  I  will.  We  will  find  out  the  truth  about 
La  Contessa." 

"  You  will  not  forget  ?  You  will  write  perhaps ; 
some  time  you  will  go.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  ask. 
You  see,  I  presume  on  your  generosity.  You  seem 
all  nobleness  to  me.  You  rise  always  higher  with 
each  occasion." 

"  And  you  grow  always  the  lovelier." 
Phoebe    was    beginning    to    weep,   from    sheer 
excess  of  sensibility. 

"  Come,  come,  dear  Meess  Phaybe,  let  us  not  have 
the  April  rain  at  this  time  of  the  year.  Good-by. 
The  thought-seed  you  have  planted  will-a  sprout." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  209 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  good  news  was  duly  sent  to  Eaglemont  by 
Phoebe  in  a  letter  full  of  unaffected  tenderness 
and  of  lively  gratitude  to  her  benefactors.  They 
replied,  asking  her  to  come  and  pass  the  remainder 
of  the  pleasant  season,  and  to  bring  Miss  Thorpe. 
But  Phoebe's  new  engagement  rendered  it  imprac- 
ticable to  make  any  but  a  short  visit  away  from 
the  city.  As  Mr.  Prescott  was  soon  to  come 
down  on  business,  Phoebe  promised  to  return  with 
him.  and  pass  a  Sunday. 

Meantime  Phoebe  continued  the  course  of  read- 
ing she  had  begun  with  Miss  Thorpe,  practised 
singing  with  her  master  an  hour  daily,  and  re- 
newed her  acquaintance  with  French  and  German. 
Idleness  was  impossible  with  Miss  Thorpe,  and 
her  mental  activity  was  stimulating  and  conta- 
gious. Phoebe  had  been  fairly  educated,  after  the 
prevailing  mode ;  but  she  found  she  had  got  more 
of  the  results  of  learning  under  her  friend's  direc- 
tion than  in  all  her  life  before.  Nothing  more 
was  said  about  fitting  herself  for  the  stage.  The 
calm  good  sense  of  her  friend  had  checked  the 
incipient  desire,  and  the  terrible  lesson  of  the  lost 
sister's  career  had  not  been  without  effect.  Miss 


210  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Thorpe,  on  her  part,  yielded  somewhat,  and  made 
no  objection  to  the  girl's  giving  lessons,  or  singing 
for  practice. 

The  time  came  for  Mr.  Prescott  to  meet  his 
late  partner.  Mr.  Gibbs  had  been  growing 
stouter ;  though,  with  his  increasing  prosperity,  he 
affected  juvenile  costumes.  He  carried  a  slender 
cane,  and  had  a  habit,  while  talking  or  listening, 
of  tapping  his  patent-leather  boots  with  it.  His 
watch-chains  were  massive  and  gorgeous,  and  he 
wore  a  broad  seal-ring.  But  nothing  could  take 
the  attention  of  the  beholder  from  his  increasing 
corpulence,  and  from  the  deepening  colors  in  his 
full  cheeks  and  extraordinary  nose. 

When  the  partners  met,  there  was  little  said. 
Mr.  Prescott  observed  that  the  unusual  balance 
against  him  was,  in  a  measure,  factitious,  being 
largely  made  up  of  advances  to  corporations 
which  the  firm  had  not  been  obliged  to  make,  and 
for  which  it  appeared  that  Mr.  Gibbs  had  fur- 
nished the  funds,  probably  in  anticipation  of  this 
very  result.  Mr.  Gibbs  replied  that  there  were 
corporations  that  had  to  be  carried,  and  it  was 
well  for  the  reputation  of  the  house  of  Prescott 
&  Co.  that  he  had  had  the  necessary  funds.  Mr. 
Prescott  said  the  object  was  evident,  which  was 
to  place  the  junior  in  a  position  to  Use  his  capital 
as  a  lever  to  push  the  senior  out.  His  exterior 
manner  was  calm ;  but  who  can  tell  the  sufferings 
of  such  a  man  on  the  verge  of  his  ruin?  It  did 
not  console  him  to  think  that  by  his  own  neglect, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  211 

and  by  leaving  all  affairs  to  the  trusted  junior,  he 
had  brought  this  destruction  upon  himself.  Even 
at  that  late  minute  he  looked  for  the  sign  of  some 
relenting,  some  touch  of  feeling  in  the  face  of 
Gibbs.  It  was  as  bare  of  any  remorseful  expres- 
sion as  a  vessel's  wooden  figure-head.  In  fact, 
Mr.  Gibbs  was  almost  in  a  good-humor,  —  almost 
as  complaisant  as  if  he  were  at  a  wedding  or 
christening.  He  felt  grateful,  if  at  all,  that  Mr. 
Prescott  had  accepted  the  situation,  and  was. 
going  to  leave  gracefully,  instead  of  making  a 
scene. 

The  papers  were  brought  out  and  signed.  Mr. 
Gibbs  handed  his  old  partner  a  check  for  an  insig- 
nificant amount,  and  bowed  politely. 

Mr.  Prescott  took  the  check,  and,  walking 
slowly  through  the  open  space,  paused,  and  gave 
a  cordial  good-by  to  each  clerk  in  turn.  There  is 
a  melancholy  feeling,  as  Henry  Crabb  Robinson 
says,  when  we  think  of  doing  any  thing  for  the 
last  time.  It  was  done.  The  house  of  Prescott 
&  Co.  was  no  longer.  Full  of  tumult  within,  and 
with  an  almost  broken  heart,  but  with  all  the  old 
stately  manner,  Mr.  Prescott  left  the  warehouse. 

The  check  was  sufficient  to  pay  his  small  bills. 
He  had  his  dwelling-house,  the  little  property  in 
the  country,  and  a  lot  of  dubious  copper  stock. 

But  Mr.  Gibbs  had  in  a  measure  reckoned 
without  his  host.  The  news  of  the  senior's  forced 
retirement  had  got  abroad :  in  fact,  Gibbs  had 
boasted  of  the  transaction  at  the  club.  "Busi- 


212  MAN  PROPOSES. 

ness,"  however,  was  not  quite  what  Amory  had 
denned  it.  There  were  some  old-fashioned  people 
in  the  street  who  respected  honor  and  the  golden 
rule,  and  who  even  had  notions  of  gratitude ;  and 
among  these  the  conduct  of  Gibbs  was  vigorously 
denounced.  A  bank  director  came  and  talked  to 
Gibbs  pointedly  about  it,  to  that  great  man's 
extreme  disgust.  Even  his  set  at  the  club  gave 
him  more  room  than  formerly.  The  clerks 
gathered  in  knots,  and  whispered.  The  very  por- 
ters and  the  sweeper  looked  sidelong  at  him. 
The  preacher  next  Sunday,  so  Gibbs  thought,  was 
aiming  at  him  in  a  sermon  he  preached  upon 
commercial  morality.  And  he  remembered  that 
the  lawyer  who  drew  up  the  papers  had  asked 
him  impertinent  questions.  Gibbs  was  pachyder- 
matous ;  but  in  time  missiles  will  go  through  even 
the  hide  of  an  elephant. 

But  all  this  would  have  been  nothing,  if  his 
plans  had  been  successful.  It  was  with  the  ut- 
most astonishment  and  rage,  that,  shortly  after  the 
change,  he  read  letters  from  treasurers  of  some  of 
the  largest  corporations,  announcing,  that  as  their 
arrangements  had  been  made  with  Prescott  &  Co., 
without  privilege  of  transfer,  and  that  house  had 
ceased  to  exist,  their  goods  would  now  go  to  a 
rival  selling-agent.  More  of  the  same  kind  of 
letters  came,  until  but  two  companies  remained, 
each  of  which  was  largely  indebted  to  Gibbs  for 
money  advanced  on  acceptances,  and  was  there- 
fore unable  to  change  the  account.  Truly  it  was 
a  barren  victory  he  had  won. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  213 

Mr.  Prescott  thought  somewhat  upon  his  pur- 
chase of  Corinthian  stock,  and  queried  whether  an 
absolute  morality  would  justify  the  gaining  pos- 
session of  shares  while  the  seller  had  no  informa- 
tion, as  he  himself  had,  affecting  their  prospective 
value.  It  was  not  a  time  for  a  ruined  man  to  be 
too  nice,  however;  and,  as  he  truly  observed,  if 
every  man  is  to  disclose  all  he  knows  in  making  a 
purchase,  and  to  unfold  his  plans  for  making  a 
profit  out  of  the  transaction,  where  will  business 
go  to?  So  he  reasoned,  somewhat  obscuring  the 
clear  communism  of  primitive  Christianity,  but 
not  guilty  to  himself  of  any  falsehood  or  misrep- 
resentation. The  time  has  not  come  when  Christi- 
anity—  the  abnegation  of  self — can  thrive  in 
Wall  Street  or  State  Street.  Nor  can  any  mer- 
chant yet  stand  and  prosper  on  the  high  moral 
plane  of  Cicero's  De  Officiis. 

The  next  day  after  Mr.  Prescott  had  relin- 
quished business,  and  while  he  was  thinking  what 
he  should  do  to  escape  stagnation  and  paraly- 
sis, the  long-expected  letter  from  Amory  came. 
Where  it  had  been  straying  it  was  useless  to 
inquire.  It  fully  confirmed  all  he  had  heard, 
and  added  many  particulars.  He  sought  out  the 
former  secretary  of  the  company,  and  got  a  list 
of  the  stockholders.  Calling  upon  some  of  these, 
he  found  they  had  all  disposed  of  their  stock,  and 
to  the  same  broker.  He  guessed  immediately 
what  this  meant.  Amory  had  written  on,  and 
taken  up  all  that  could  be  got ;  so  that  he  and 


214  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Amory  now  held  the  whole,  except,  perhaps,  some 
fifty  straggling  shares.  To  manage  the  affairs  of 
an  incorporated  company  under  these  circum- 
stances would  not  be  difficult.  He  engaged  a 
skilful  mining  engineer  and  chemist,  and  sent 
him  West  without  delay.  He  could  now  sit  down 
and  wait  for  results.  Letters  came  every  few 
days.  The  custodian  of  the  mine  had  followed 
Amory,  and  learned  the  results  of  his  labors. 
Interlopers  had  come  with  surveying  instruments, 
and  hoped  to  find  that  some  part  of  the  coveted 
copper  mountain  was  outside  the  limits  of  the 
Corinthian  property,  but  in  vain.  The  whole 
peninsula  was  in  a  fever.  Capitalists  came,  and 
made  tempting  offers ;  miners  proffered  their  ser- 
vices :  but  as  Amory  with  shocking  taste  wrote  — 

"  I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey, 

My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute, 
From  the  centre  all  round  to  the  say 
I  am  lord  of  the  derrick  and  shute." 

"  This  is  better  than  rhyming  advertisements  for 
Shaver's  furniture  or  Macgregor's  carpets :  I  am 
even  content  to  let  the  finishing  of  my  poem  on 
the  sparrows  go  till  slack  times." 

"  A  wise  little  fool,"  said  Mr.  Prescott,  with  a 
hearty  laugh.  "•  Now,  when  these  shares  go  up  to 
180,  I  would  like  to  meet  Gibbs.  I  think  I'll  take 
an  office  opposite  to  the  old  warehouse,  and  have 
'  Corinthian'  on  a  sign,  in  plain  sight  of  his  win- 
dow, with  letters  two  feet  high." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  215 

Such  a  secret  could  not  be  kept  long.  Letters 
from  the  upper  lake  region  came  to  the  news- 
papers ;  and  the  luck  pf  the  Corinthian  was  in 
every  paragraph.  Mr.  Prescott  held  off  till  the 
fever  ran  high,  and  until  the  reports  of  experts 
settled  the  value  of  the  mine.  Then  he  sold  for 
himself  and  Amory  enough  shares  to  raise  a  work- 
ing capital,  and  the  operations  began.  The  com- 
pany was  re-organized  on  a  solid  basis.  Mr.  Pres- 
cott was  president,  and  Amory  superintendent,  of 
the  mine.  Leaving  a  clerk  in  charge  of  the  office, 
Mr.  Prescott  determined  to  return  to  Eaglemont 
for  a  visit,  taking  Phoebe  with  him.  During  the 
time  he  had  been  in  the  city  he  had  been  so 
absorbed  in  business,  —  first  with  regard  to  his 
settlement  with  Gibbs,  and  afterwards  while  the 
company  was  being  re-organized,  —  that  he  had 
scarcely  a  moment  to  give  to  his  darling  Phoebe. 
He  had  staid  at  a  hotel,  and  given  his  undivided 
attention  to  affairs.  Now  he  was  free  :  now  he 
would  see  her,  and  tell  her  of  his  good-fortune. 

Should  he  ?  It  might  turn  her  head.  He  con- 
cluded to  wait.  It  was  Friday  afternoon,  and 
there  were  two  leisure  days.  Phoebe  meanwhile, 
on  their  way  in  the  cars,  was  meditating  how  to 
carry  out  a  simple  little  plot  of  her  own  without 
giving  offence.  After  a  variety  of  observations 
upon  matters  of  no  consequence,  this  profound 
dissembler  began  to  ask  her  companion  about  his 
business  affairs. 

"  Aha !  "  thought  the  old  gentleman,  "  she  thinks 
I  am  poor.  I  will  be  sly." 


216  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  You  know,"  said  the  girl,  "  that  Mr.  Amory 
wrote  quite  confidently  —  rudely,  perhaps  —  about 
the  business  with  Mr.  Gibbs.  Is  it  really  so  ? 
Was  he  such  an  ungrateful  creature  ?  " 

"  The  firm  is  dissolved,"  he  replied. 

"  And  did  he  really  get  all  your  money  ?  " 

"  He  has  the  business,  my  dear,  —  the  business 
that  gave  me  my  money." 

"  And  you  have  no  business  now  ?  " 

"  None  —  to  speak  of." 

"  But  you  haven't  lost  all  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !     I  haven't  lost  you." 

"  But  I  should  be  only  a  burden  —  I  couldn't  be 
what  you  would  call  part  of  the  assets.  Oh,  no ! 
I  am  —  let  me  see  —  yes  —  I  am  a  liability,  am  I 
not?" 

"  You  are  liable  to  be  curious,  like  all  women, 
big  and  little.  I  have  my  house  in  Boston,  and 
the  little  place  on  the  hill ;  and  I  am  a  young 
man,  young  and  active,  open  for  an  engagement, 
with  good  recommendations  from  my  last  em- 
ployer." 

"  I  declare,  it  is  a  shame ! "  said  Phoebe,  still 
thinking  of  Gibbs.  "  But  you  sha'n't  talk  about 
engagements,  at  your  age.  I  am  not  going  to 
have  you  accept  a  salary." 

"  Oh,  you  aren't !  A  proud  puss  you  are  ;  but  I 
can  work  yet.  And  I'll  not-  put  up  with  any 
remarks  upon  my  age." 

"  I  will  engage  you." 

Mr.  Prescott  laughed  hilariously. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  217 

She  was  blushing  deeply,  but,  after  a  time, 
turned  a  face  towards  him  full  of  affection,  but 
with  a  look  of  embarrassment  also. 

"I  mean  it." 

"  You  give  me  a  salary  ?  " 

"Perhaps  we  won't  put  it  that  way.  Miss 
Thorpe  says  I  have  a  large  legacy  waiting  for  me, 
—  as  much  as  ten  thousand  pounds." 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  And  somebody  has  to  prove  who  I  am,  and  to 
get  the  money,  and  manage  it  for  me.  And  I  don't 
want  any,  —  at  least,  I  don't  want  much,  —  as  I 
am  teaching  this  year,  and  earn  my  own  living. 
I  couldn't  spend  but  little  of  the  income.  And 
I  mean  to  give  you  all  the  rest  of  it,  for  taking 
care  of  me." 

"Confound  the  girl!"  he.  thought.  "She's 
fairly  got  ahead  of  me."  He  had  some  Corinthian 
shares  then  in  his  pocket,  made  out  in  her  name. 

"  So  you  will  give  me  your  income  for  taking 
care  of  it  ?  Trustees  and  agents  do  sometimes 
manage  in  that  way ;  but  I  shouldn't  know  how." 

"  But  I  want  it  so,  and  I  will  have  it  so." 

"  You  have  the  right  to  be  peremptory  —  all 
beautiful  young  women  have  ;  and  we  men  always 
submit." 

"  You  ought  to  think  how  I  feel  to  see  you 
losing  your  business,  and  knowing  all  you  have 
done  for  me  for  so  many  years.  And  it  isn't 
right  nor  generous  of  you  to  deny  me,  and  to 
make  fun.  I  don't  want  the  legacy,  unless  I  can 


218  MAN  PROPOSES. 

do  as  I  choose  with  it.  And  sha'n't  we  all  share 
together?  And  it  won't  be  that  you  are  under 
any  obligation :  each  one  puts  in  what  he  has, 
that  is  all." 

"  What  a  glorious  partner  you  would  be  —  for 
some  fine  fellow!  But  that  kind  of  business 
wouldn't  be  safe  with  Gibbs." 

"We  aren't  talking  of  selfish  people  without 
souls." 

"  No,  my  dear  girl,  evidently  not.  Your  soul  is 
in  your  eyes,  in  your  voice,  and  in  your  actions ; 
and  I  should  be  a  brute  to  make  you  unhappy  for 
a  moment.  I  will  drop  nonsense.  Your  generos- 
ity is  not  any  surprise  to  me :  I  have  seen  it  from 
the  time  of  your  pinafores  and  bibs.  You  are 
just  a  lump  of  goodness,  and  a  pretty  substantial 
lump  too.  If  I  need  any  money,  and  you  have 
more  income  than  you  want,  I  sha'n't  hesitate  to 
accept  your  offer.  By  the  Lord,  what  a  noble 
girl !  "  he  added  involuntarily,  and  half  aloud. 

Phoebe  placed  her  hand  in  his,  but  said  nothing 
further. 

"And  now,"  said  Mr.  Prescott,  taking  out  of 
his  pocket  the  stock  certificates  on  which  her 
name  was  written  in  his  own  clear  and  beautiful 
hand,  "  as  you  have  shown  your  hand,  —  or  heart 
I  should  say  —  I  will  show  mine.  It  isn't  yet  posi- 
tively sure ;  but  I  presume  these  shares  are  worth 
a  great  deal  of  money,  and  will  yield  you  twice 
as  much  income  as  your  legacy.  You  see  your 
name.  I  was  planning  a  little  surprise ;  but  you 


MAN  PROPOSES.  219 

got  the  start  of  me,  and  now  I  have  to  come  in 
second." 

"  Then  you  are  not  poor  !  " 

"  I  hope  not :  in  fact,  it  looks  quite  otherwise." 

"Then  I  care  for  nothing  more.  Of  course  I 
am  a  thousand  times  obliged  for  your  goodness ; 
but  for  myself  I  don't  care  a  pin.  That  you  and 
aunt  Prescott  are  comfortable  is  enough  —  more 
than  enough.  It  is  glorious !  " 

"But  you  needn't  despise  the  shares.  Some 
fine  fellow  will  be  glad  to  get  the  income  on  them. 
I  wonder  who  it  will  be.  I  am  selfish  enough  to 
hope  that  he  will  not  come  along  just  yet.  I 
don't  want  to  part  with  you,  not  even  for  your 
happiness." 

"  That  is  past,"  said  Phoebe  solemnly.  "  I  shall 
teach,  and  shall  remain  in  Boston." 

"  The  deuse  ! "  thought  he.  "  What  a  sigh  that 
was !  —  from  the  very  bottom  of  her  heart.  I 
wonder  which  of  the  two  runaways  it  is,  —  my 
stepson,  or  my  nephew?  Roderick  may  live  to 
come  back ;  and,  if  he  does  win  her,  he  is  a  lucky 
dog.  But  Robert,  away  in  some  country  of  fevers 
and  cannibals,  or  cholera  and  earthquakes  —  that 
is  a  bourn  from  which  no  missionary  ever  returns." 


220  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MRS.  PKESCOTT  with  Mary,  in  a  basket  phaeton, 
had  been  taking  the  circuit  of  the  mountain,  a 
pleasant  drive  of  some  five  or  six  miles,  when  the 
train  arrived.  She  saw  her  husband  and  Phoebe 
get  off,  and  waited  for  them.  Mr.  Prescott  gave 
up  Phoebe  to  his  wife's  charge,  and  got  a  convey- 
ance for  himself  and  Mary. 

The  manner  in  which  the  aunt  and  niece  met 
was  characteristic.  Phoebe  came  impetuously  up 
to  the  phaeton,  and  offered  to  kiss  her  aunt ;  while 
the  latter  calmly  bent  over,  and  received  the  salute 
on  her  cheek.  "  To  think  that  you  are  my  aunt, 
after  all !  It  seems  like  a  story.  You  couldn't 
have  been  kinder,  though,  if  .you  had  known  it 
from  the  beginning."  This  was  uttered  in  short 
little  sallies  and  with  touching  emotion. 

"  I  might  have  known  you  were  brother  Roder- 
ick's child,  you  are  so  impulsive  !  "  was  the  reply. 
"  Come,  step  in,  my  dear.  You  will  disarrange 
my  collar." 

Phoebe  was  hurt.  It  was  incredible  to  her  that 
her  aunt  could  be  so  composed,  if  not  actually  cool. 
She  did  not  know,  that,  with  her  aunt,  the  weather- 
gauge  was  connected  with  her  absent  son.  When- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  221 

ever  she  was  anxious  about  him,  then  Phosbe  was 
remembered  as  the  cause  of  his  going  into  danger. 
She  had  just  received  a  letter  from  him,  dated 
from  the  vicinity  of  a  great  battle-field.  His  regi- 
ment had  suffered  terribly,  both  in  officers  and 
men,  and  he  was  now  promoted  to  the  rank  of  lieu- 
tenant-colonel. He  had  been  slightly  wounded,  a 
flesh  wound  he  said,  a  mere  scratch.  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott  told  Phoebe  of  this  as  they  rode  up  the  long 
hill ;  and  it  seemed  to  the  girl  that  she  took  a  pleas- 
ure in  dwelling  upon  all  the  painful  aspects  of  the 
situation,  and  kept  making  observations  that  stung 
her  like  brushes  from  a  bunch  of  nettles.  She  did 
not  offer  to  read  the  letter,  but  said  that  Roderick 
wished  to  be  affectionately  remembered  to  a  cer- 
tain young  lady ;  that,  if  he  lived,  he  should  return 
to  claim  her ;  and,  if  he  died,  it  would  be  with  her 
name  on  his  lips.  Even  the  ideal  picture  was  too 
much  for  the  mother.  She  sobbed  before  she  fin- 
ished the  sentence,  and  of  course  Pho3be  sobbed 
too  ;  and  they  reached  the  house  both  crying,  while 
Mr.  Prescott  and  Mary  were  waiting  for  them  in 
blank  surprise. 

Phcebe  began  to  see,  that,  while  Roderick  was 
away,  she  could  have  no  peace  with  her  aunt. 
Often  she  had  thought,  when  bearing  these  im- 
plied or  open  reproaches,  that  in  self-defence  she 
would  let  the  mother  know  what  she  had  experi- 
enced from  this  darling  son  of  hers.  But  then 
she  reflected  that  he  might  fall,  and  she  did  not 
wish  to  leave  a  stain  on  his  memory  in  the  moth- 


222  MAN  PROPOSES. 

er's  heart.  Besides,  he  had  repented,  as  she  be- 
lieved, in  sincerity.  So  she  could  not  show  to  the 
mother  what  were  her  feelings  towards  him.  The 
time  and  circumstances  had  not  come  to  show 
even  to  herself  what  her  feelings  were. 

Mary  was  persuaded  by  her  uncle  to  stay  to  tea. 
In  such  stormy  weather  he  wanted  to  see  one  sun- 
shiny face.  Uncle  and  niece  set  themselves  to 
cheer  up  the  sorrowing  ones,  and  before  long  the 
tears  were  dried. 

Mr.  Prescott  had  been  talking  with  Mary  about 
Amory's  operations,  and  after  tea  the  subject  was 
resumed.  This  brought  to  mind  Mrs.  Prescott's 
other  great  grief,  the  loss  of  property  and  position. 
She  inquired  about  the  settlement  with  Mr.  Gibbs, 
and  commented  upon  it  with  an  asperity  that 
Pho3be  had  never  observed  before.  The  tone  of 
her  mind  was  sombre.  Every  object  took  a  shade 
from  the  prevailing  gloom.  The  eclipse  of  cheer- 
fulness continued  until  Mr.  Prescott  became  des- 
perate. 

"Why,  Eleanor!"  he  exclaimed  "I  am  sorry 
for  you,  and  more  sorry  for  these  young  girls, 
whom  you  are  making  wretched  with  your  glum 
looks.  You  will  give  Phoebe  a  fine  specimen  of 
the  delights  of  home :  you  will  make  her  sorry 
for  the  new-found  relationship." 

"I  don't  see  much  to  be  cheerful  about,"  she 
answered.  "  With  Roderick  away,  and  in  danger 
all  the  time,  and  with  poverty  before  us  in  our  old 
age,  I  can't  pretend  to  be  light-hearted." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  223 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Roderick  ?  " 

She  repeated  in  a  melancholy  tone  the  news  she 
had  just  told  Phoebe,  omitting  the  little  message. 

"  A  lieutenant-colonel,  is  he  ?  I  don't  see  any 
thing  very  sad  about  that.  And  as  for  our  pov- 
erty —  I  have  had  an  offer  of  salary."  (Here  he 
gave  a  sly  glance  at  Phoebe.) 

"  A  salary,  indeed  !  I  should  think  that  was  a 
fine  thing  for  a  merchant,  and  the  head  of  an  old 
house,  to  boast  of." 

"  Oh  I  but  I  haven't  accepted  the  salary  yet.  I 
am  taking  it  under  consideration.  Something 
better  may  turn  up." 

"  Don't  talk  of  things  '  turning  up,'  Mr.  Pres- 
cott.  That  person  Micawber,  if  that  was  his 
name,  in  Dickens's  vulgar  story,  has  made  the 
expression  odious.  I  hope  you  don't  mean  that 
you  are  looking  out  for  the  air-castles  that  Amory 
is  building !  He  is  an  enthusiast,  a  silly  —  I  for- 
get, Mary :  I  don't  wish  to  underrate  your  friend, 
who,  I  presume,  is  honest  and  sincere,  but  so 
flighty  and  unpractical,  you  know,  like  all  persons 
with  a  poetical  turn." 

"  Come,  now,  don't  be  disagreeable.  Amory 
has  given  practical  proof  of  his  good  sense.  The 
mine  is  a  fact,  a  gigantic  fact. 

"  I  am  sure  Mr.  Amory  is  entirely  too  gener- 
ous," said  Mary,  "to  make  ill-natured  observa- 
tions about  others  in  their  absence,  and  I  should 
think  that  he  might  be  spared,  especially  as  he  is 
so  devoted  to  his  friends." 


224  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Well  done  !  "  said  Mr.  Prescott,  "  I  like  that. 
Nothing  is  so  common  as  to  sit  and  listen  to  de- 
traction of  the  absent.  I  admire  your  courage, 
Mary.  —  But  now,  Eleanor,  can't  we  drive  away 
that  black  cloud9  I  won't  boast,  and  I  don't 
want  a  word  repeated ;  but  I  consider  I  am  worth 
more  to-day  than  I  ever  was,  and  certainly  my 
income  will  be  double.  If  poverty  is  your  bug- 
bear, you  can  smile  at  your  fears.  You  will  have 
everjr  thing  you  want." 

"  Then  we  can  go  back  to  town  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  the  season  is  over.  I  want  to  enjoy 
the  country  a  while,  now  we  are  here." 

Mrs.  Prescott's  spirits  rose  momently.  She 
would  have  seriously  preferred  death  to  banish- 
ment from  her  fashionable  society,  from  her 
church,  and  from  the  Plato  Club.  Visions  of 
future  glories  came  with  the  thought  of  re-estab- 
lished fortune. 

"  Don't  you  think,  my  dear,"  she  said,  after  a 
moment's  reflection,  "that,  now  we  have  our  old 
faded  furniture  up  here,  we  should  get  new  things 
for  our  house  in  town?  The  house  itself  has 
needed  some  touches  a  good  while.  I  should  hope 
we  might  have  new  carpets,  sofas,  chairs,  and  fau- 
teuils,  some  larger  mirrors,  some  electric  bells  to 
call  the  servants,  some  new  bookcases.  The 
books,  too,  ought  to  be  rebound :  the  leather  is 
worn,  and  the  gilding  faded.  And  our  conserva- 
tory is  so  small ! — just  room  for  about  two  dozen 
plants.  I  would  like  a  stately  dome  of  glass,  and 


MAN  PROPOSES.  225 

some  rare  tropical  plants  with  long  feathery 
leaves.  It  would  give  such  a  vista  to  the  draw- 
ing-room ! " 

Mr.  Prescott  was  exchanging  amused  glances 
with  Phoebe.  She  went  on  :  — 

"  And  our  carriage  is  quite  old  and  musty.  The 
horses,  too,  have  lost  the  step.  They  should  be 
exchanged  for  a  younger  pair  with  a  more  pro- 
nounced gait.  The  oratory  should  be  repainted, 
and  a  picture  or  two  put  in  it:  some  saint  or 
madonna  would  be  so  pretty  in  the  recess  back  of 
the  candles !  I  am  tired  of  those  old  servants : 
they  are  getting  stupid.  I  should  like  an  English 
coachman,  in  a  handsome  livery,  and  an  indoor 
man  that  is  au  fait  with  modern  usages.  Of 
course,  we  will  have  a  new  door  and  doorway  in 
black  walnut,  made  from  an  original  design.  The 
old  black  door,  and  the  great  silver  plate,  and  the 
staring  number,  are  old-fashioned  and  common. 
I  haven't  spoken  of  dress ;  but  I  haven't  had  a  new 
costume  for  a  twelvemonth ;  and  Phoebe,  there,  is 
dressed  like  a  nun.  We  shall  have  to  receive  on 
a  stated  day,  and  must  have  a  list  of  our  callers 
in  the  '  Reporter.'  The  Plato  Club  receptions  are 
always  printed,  you  know;  and  it  looks  well  to 
see  the  names  of  poets  and  judges  and  clergymen, 
and  other  beaux  esprits,  as  your  friends." 

"  Is  there  any  thing  more,  Eleanor  ?  Haven't 
you  forgotten  something  ?  " 

u  I  haven't  asked  for  any  thing  unreasonable, 
have  I  ?  In  a  certain  position  in  life  we  have 


226  MAN  PROPOSES. 

certain  duties.  I  feel  that  we  owe  something  to 
society,  and  I  don't  wish  to  shrink  from  any  sac- 
rifice." 

The  sacrifices  that  society  demands  are  always 
made  Jieroically. 

"What  do  you  think,  Phoebe?"  asked  Mr. 
Prescott.  • 

"  I  don't  think,  uncle.  I  am  not  to  pass  judg- 
ment on  aunt's  plans.  It  all  sounds  very  fine. 
If  aunt  wants  it,  and  you  can  afford  it,  I  should  be 
glad  for  her  sake.  The  house  as  it  is,  is  very  dear 
to  me.  It  has  a  look  of  comfort,  and  seems  to  fit 
you  both,  as  if  it  had  been  made  for  you." 

Phoebe  was  fated  that  day  to  ruffle  her  aunt's 
temper  at  every  turn.  It  was  a  perfectly  honest 
reply  she  had  made,  but,  like  most  honest  speeches, 
it  was  not  guarded  and  discreet :  it  conveyed  a 
censure,  and  the  lady  was  wroth.  Then  she 
thought  of  Roderick  again ;  and,  between  the  two 
causes  of  irritation,  she  managed  to  keep  herself 
pretty  constantly  unhappy. 

After  tea  Phoebe  took  the  phaeton,  and  drove 
Mary  home.  She  at  first  hoped  Mary  would  ask 
her  to  stay ;  but  then  she  reflected  that  she  might 
have  to  endure  a  solemn  woman  in  place  of  an 
irritable  one,  and  she  wisely  returned  to  her 
uncle's,  after  chatting  a  while  with  Mary  and  her 
father  at  the  door.  She  began  to  sigh  for  the 
serene  atmosphere  of  Miss  Thorpe's  home,  and 
wished  she  had  a  pretext  for  returning  there. 
Her  aunt  had  developed  traits  unsuspected  before. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  227 

In  prosperity  she  had  been  often  gracious,  suave, 
and  delightful ;  but  she  could  not  bear  adversity. 
She  had  no  power  to  adapt  herself  to  circum- 
stances. Self-denial  in  regard  to  luxuries  was 
something  she  had  never  contemplated.  Phoebe, 
like  all  fresh  young  people,  enjoyed  society,  music, 
and  dancing,  and  could  take  her  share  of  Fortune's 
favors  equably ;  but  she  could  also  have  resigned 
herself  to  the  seclusion  of  a  farmhouse,  if  it  had 
been  necessary,  and  would  have  been  happy  there 
with  the  uncle  in  whose  feelings  and  tastes  she 
sympathized. 

The  next  day  rose  clear  and  bright.  Once 
more,  by  the  favor  of  uncle  Solomon,  the  colt 
was  harnessed  to  the  elliptic-spring  wagon,  and 
the  two  girls  made  the  tour  of  the  country.  The 
glory  of  the  summer  was  gone,  but  Phrebe  thought 
the  russet-brown  of  the  pastures  even  finer  in  tone 
than  the  green  had  been.  The  highest  prospect, 
too,  was  more  soft  and  alluring.  The  summits  of 
the  far  hills,  seen  through  long  stretches  of  val- 
leys, seemed  to  be  sparkling  with  powdered  gold. 
The  blue  smokes  rose  straight  upwards  from 
the  farmhouses,  —  mere  specks  of  white  or  red, 
recognized  chiefly  by  the  checker-board  lines  of 
orchards  near  them  and  by  the  long-backed  roofs 
of  the  ash-colored  barns. 

Then  returning,  when  they  had  descended  half 
way,  they  hitched  the  horse  by  the  roadside,  and 
plunged  into  the  woods,  following  the  course  of  a 
stream  that  went  tinkling  over  the  ledges,  and 


228  MAN  PROPOSES. 

freshening  a  series  of  pools  that  kept  the  autumn 
grass  green.  At  length  they  came  to  the  place 
for  which  the  experienced  country-girl  had  been 
seeking,  —  the  beds  of  those  exquisite  ferns  which 
rustics  and  poets  call  maiden's-hair.  With  arms 
full  of  the  long  and  tangled  vines,  they  returned 
to  the  wagon,  and  went  on  their  way  again. 

When  quite  near  the  town,  a  figure  came  into 
the  middle  of  the  road  as  if  to  stop  their  horse. 
Phrebe  gave  a  sharp  scream ;  but  Mary  only 
breathed  shorter,  and  exclaimed,  "Percival  Amory  ! 
where  have  you  come  from?  and  why  do  you 
scare  us  to  death?  and  we  driving  the  colt  too  !  " 

It  was  the  sturdy  and  happy  little  man  surely. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  get  out?"  he  asked 
cheerily,  "or  shall  I  get  in  ?  —  Miss  —  Miss  Phoebe, 
I  am  delighted  to  see  you." 

Reaching  his  hand  to  Mary,  she  stepped  on  the 
wheel,  whereupon  he  caught  and  landed  her  by 
the  road-side  in  some  way,  although  the  particu- 
ulars  of  the  descent  are  difficult  to  describe  in  set 
phrase.  This  being  accomplished,  not  heeding 
the  presence  of  the  other,  he  bestowed  a  rousing 
kiss  upon  Mary's  pretty  mouth.  She  resisted,  to 
be  sure,  and  said,  "  For  shame  !  "  which  Amory  did 
not  seem  to  hear.  He  only  observed  that  now  he 
had  fulfilled  a  solemn  vow  that  he  had  made  when 
he  left  Ontonagon.  He  had  vowed,  he  said,  to 
kiss  the  first  girl  who  gave  him  her  hand  to  de- 
scend from  a  wagon.  Then  it  occurred  to  him 
that  the  whole  affair  was  a  little  absurd ;  and  he 


MAN  PROPOSES.  229 

proposed  that  Mary  should  get  in  again,  where- 
upon all  three  laughed  helplessly.  "  Ride  with 
us,"  said  Mary. 

"  On  one  seat  ?  Three  of  us  ?  Oh,  no  !  " 
"But  father  rides  with  us.  See!"  And  she 
pulled  a  drawer  from  under  the  seat,  that  afforded 
a  small  resting-place  for  the  driver.  Behold  now 
the  happy  Ainory,  between  two  of  the  handsomest 
women  in  the  world,  driving  through  the  curious 
village,  and  up  to  the  old  hill.  He  was  not,  on  this 
occasion, 

"  A  sweetly  unobtrusive  third." 

In  fact,  he  was  a  dominating  presence,  full  of  spirits 
and  of  no  end  of  talk,  and  he  entirely  frustrated 
the  plans  of  Mary.  That  artful  girl  had  been  en- 
deavoring to  learn  what  were  Phoebe's  real  feelings 
towards  her  brother,  the  absent  Robert.  At  the 
very  moment  when  Amory  appeared  in  the  road, 
she  had  been  leading  to  a  test  question  with  great 
care.  She  was  just  going  to  ask  Phoebe  plumply, 
"  Would  you  have  loved  and  married  Robert  if 
he  had  not  been  a  minister  and  a  missionary?" 
Phoebe  divined  the  approaches  of  the  good  and 
simple-hearted  sister,  and  was  unutterably  pained. 
The  road  she  had  travelled  with  Robert  was 
full  of  thorns,  and  not  to  be  passed  over  again. 
Amory  was  now  her  welcome  shield.  She  plied 
him  with  questions,  and  he  was  only  too  happy  to 
talk.  The  Corinthian  was  a  fixed  fact.  Cheops 
wasn't  more  solid;  nor  was  Cyprus  or  Corinth 


230  MAN  PROPOSES. 

more  —  more  coppery.  The  mine  would  supply 
the  universe.  For  himself,  he  should  never  be 
happy  until  he  had  done  two  things,  —  first,  kicked 
Gibbs ;  second,  ridden  down  State  Street  in  a 
coach,  with  a  foot  out  of  each  window.  Then 
looking  at  Mary,  and  recollecting  that  there  was 
no  mention  of  her  in  the  two  things  he  most 
desired,  he  added,  "  These  are  the  things  I  wish 
to  do  after  a  certain  auspicious  event." 

As  to  his  poetic  effusions,  Amory  was  not  very 
hopeful.  The  Western  air  had  not  stimulated  his 
genius  as  he  expected.  The  projected  poem  upon 
the  sparrows  was  still  "  on  the  stocks." 

The  coming  of  Amory  was  a  surprise  to  the 
two  families  on  the  hill ;  but  all  were  glad  to  see 
the  brave  and  cheerful  man  who  had  accomplished 
so  much.  With  the  one  Prescott  he  had  long 
and  satisfactory  talks  about  the  mine :  with  the 
other,  we  may  fairly  suppose  that  a  matter  no  less 
important  was  discussed,  and  with  a  similar  pleas- 
ing result. 

As  our  story  is  about  to  pass  over  a  considerable 
interval,  it  may  be  proper  to  make  a  summary  of 
lesser  events. 

Amory  was  soon  announced  as  the  accepted 
lover  of  Mary  Prescott,  and,  having  left  a  substi- 
tute at  the  mine,  proposed  to  spend  the  winter  at 
the  East. 

The  city  residence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hugh  Pres- 
cott was  improved  and  beautified,  though  not 
upon  the  magnificent  scale  proposed  by  its  ambi- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  231 

tious  mistress.  They  returned  to  the  city  in  the 
early  autumn. 

The  scanty  evidence  bearing  upon  the  parentage 
of  Phoebe  was  put  in  due  form,  and  forwarded ; 
but  it  was  agreed  that  the  affair  should  be  kept 
secret  until  the  claim  was  acknowledged  by  Ralph 
Manning,  the  head  of  the  family. 

Roderick  was  heard  from  less  frequently ;  but 
it  was  announced  that  he  was  acting  colonel  of 
the  regiment. 

Phoebe  returned  to  the  city  on  the  next  Mon- 
day, and  thenceforth  kept  steadily  on  her  course, 
teaching  and  reading,  spending  only  her  Sundays 
in  town. 

Robert  Prescott  made  no  sign.  Whether  he 
was  among  Afric's  sunny  fountains,  or  on  India's 
coral  strand,  no  one  knew.  Aunt  Zeruiah's  rigid 
sternness  gave  way:  she  softened  and  wept,  —  a 
pitiable  sight,  at  which  uncle  Solomon  was  accus- 
tomed to  take  refuge  with  his  cattle  in  the  barn, 
finding  some  consolation  in  their  mute  faces. 


232  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THIS  was  the  summer  of  battles.  The  awful 
struggle  of  Gettysburg,  protracted  for  three  days, 
with  varying  fortunes,  had  sent  new  thrills  through 
the  land.  Almost  as  vast  as  a  war  of  the  ele- 
ments, the  commotion,  spread  through  the  air,  and 
the  cannon  seemed  to  reverberate  from  prairie  to 
ocean.  The  fierce  engagement  at  Chancellorsville, 
the  siege  of  Charleston,  the  terrible  carnage  at 
Chattanooga,  the  capture  of  Vicksburg,  and  scores 
of  less  famous  conflicts,  filled  all  the  dreary  year. 
Men's  hearts  began  to  fail  them ;  and  the  future 
had  nothing  but  gloom. 

Winter  was  coming ;  and  the  pressing  needs  of 
the  soldiers  in  camps  and  hospitals  were  upper- 
most in  the  thoughts  of  all  generous  minds. 

The  patriotic  women  belonging  to  the  society 
auxiliary  to  the  Sanitary  Commission  had  projected 
a  concert  to  raise  funds.  It  was  to  be  given  in  a 
large  hall,  but  was  to  be  in  a  manner  private,  as 
the  tickets  were  to  be  disposed  of  by  the  members 
and  their  friends ;  and  there  was  to  be  no  publicity 
given  to  the  performances.  It  was  expected  in 
this  way  to  secure  the  aid  of  many  brilliant  ama- 
teur players  and  singers,  and  to  sell  the  tickets  at 
high  prices. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  233 

Naturally  they  waited  upon  Signer  Belvedere 
to  obtain  his  co-operation.  He  cheerfully  assented, 
and  promised  to  use  his  influence  with  his  pupils. 
He  made  out  a  list  of  names,  of  which  Phoebe's 
was  first,  and,  at  the  request  of  the  ladies,  went 
to  see  Miss  Thorpe  and  Mrs.  Prescott,  to  get 
their  consent  for  her  appearance.  Miss  Thorpe 
was  an  active  member  of  the  society,  and,  in  fact, 
was  giving  her  whole  time  to  its  interests.  For 
almost  any  other  purpose  she  would  have  refused 
her  consent  for  Phoebe  to  appear  in  public,  even 
in  this  semi-private  fashion.  She  hated  the  stage, 
especially  the  opera.  She  dreaded  the  influence 
of  excitement  and  applause  upon  Phoebe's  sus- 
ceptible soul.  She  was  determined  that  Phoebe 
should  have  no  incitement  to  follow  a  public 
career.  It  was  only  after  repeated  conversations 
that  she  gave  a  reluctant  consent.  Phoebe,  who 
had  begun  her  career  as  teacher,  was  overjoyed, 
and  on  Saturdays  made  preparations  for  the  con- 
cert. She  was  to  sing  an  elaborate  cavatina  and 
a'ballad  in  the  first  part  of  the  programme.  The 
second  part  was  to  consist  of  an  operatic  burlesque 
in  Italian :  iffe  authorship  was  an  open  secret.  It 
was  printed  anonymously,  but  was  known  to  be 
written  by  a  well-known  professor,  and  was 
adapted  with  exquisite  skill  to  the  most  striking 
musical  selections  from  a  number  of  famous 
operas.  There  was  a  chorus  of  students,  and 
three  or  four  characters  in  costume  ;  and  the  gran- 
diose music,  joined  to  the  elaborate  nonsense  of  the 


234  MAN  PROPOSES. 

libretto,  made  it  one  of  the  most  amusing  trifles 
ever  presented  on  the  stage.  The  nature  of 
Phrebe  was  wholly  averse  to  burlesque.  She 
could  have  made  nothing  of  it ;  and  her  feelings 
had  become  so  serious  that  any  trifling  was  a  pain 
to  her.  As  the  weeks  went  by,  Miss  Thorpe  no- 
ticed with  ever-increasing  anxiety  how  Phoebe's 
expression  was  changing.  Her  cheeks  lost  their 
rosy  flush ;  lines  of  thought  began  to  be  apparent ; 
and,  above  all,  her  eyes  were  no  longer  sparkling 
and  changing  in  hue  and  expression  as  she  spoke. 
She  looked  like  one  gazing  into  distance,  even 
into  another  sphere.  There  was  a  fixedness  in 
her  looks  that  was  almost  like  the  beginning  of 
insanity.  Miss  Thorpe  would  then  have  dis- 
suaded her  from  taking  any  part  in  the  concert, 
but  it  was  too  late :  Phcebe  was  immovable.  So 
she  went  weekly  to  Signer  Belvedere's  rooms,  and 
practised  her  exercises  and  songs,  singing  with  an 
undreamed-of  power  and  intensity,  but  looking 
the  picture  of  settled  melancholy. 

The  time  wore  away,  and  the  day  for  the  con- 
cert came.  The  hall  was  completely  filled  by  an 
audience  distinguished  for  wealth  an%  social  emi- 
nence. Signor  Belvedere  was  conspicuous  in  the 
front  row,  seated  with  a  party  of  his  country  men 
and  women,  members  of  an  opera  troupe  tempora- 
rily in  Boston  on  a  vacation.  He  looked  around 
the  house  with  an  air  of  triumph,  as  if  to  say, 
"  This  is  my  pupil  you  have  come  to  hear.  The 
voice  is  one  I  have  formed.  The  grand  manner 


MAN  PROPOSES.  235 

of  Pasta  and  Malibran  lives  again  in  a  girl  whose 
ancestry  not  one  of  you  knows.  The  beauty  you 
are  to  dote  upon,  however,  belongs  to  my  coun- 
try." He  could  not  sit  still,  but  chatted  and  ges- 
tured with  unceasing  vivacity,  returning  the  bows 
of  pupils  and  musical  friends. 

At  length  the  curtain  was  raised.  The  concert 
began  with  a  piano  solo  by  a  professional  artist; 
then  followed  one  of  Signor  Belvedere's  pupils, 
whose  brilliant  performance  of  Rode's  Variations 
Phoebe  had  once  heard  while  waiting  for  her 
lesson.  A  fine  bass  singer  with  a  slight  German 
accent  next  came,  with  a  dramatic  rendering  of 
Schumann's  "  Two  Grenadiers."  It  was  now 
Phoebe's  turn.  As  she  came  forward,  there  was 
a  sudden  stir  throughout  the  hall.  She  was 
known  to  but  few  persons,  even  by  sight,  and 
had  never  sung  except  in  Mrs.  Prescott's  parlor, 
or  when  taking  a  lesson.  But  her  youth  and 
resplendent  beauty,  her  dignified,  statuesque  atti- 
tude, the  simplicity  of  her  costume,  and  the  sweet, 
melancholy  expression  of  her  eyes,  captivated 
every  one.  Women,  as  well  as  men,  felt  the 
fascination  of  her  presence,  and  applauded,  almost 
with  tears  of  admiration,  as  she  came  forward. 
"  See  ! "  whispered  Signor  Belvedere,  in  Italian, 
to  the  prima  donna  beside  him.  "  What  a  figure  ! 
Grand  Dio !  what  a  soul  in  those  eyes  !  What  a 
presence  for  the  lyric  stage !  Observe  that  beau- 
tiful hand ;  not  a  ring  to  mar  the  symmetry  of 
those  lovely  fingers !  Not  a  barbaric  hoop,  either, 


236  MAN  PROPOSES. 

in  those  ears  of  pink  shell !  All  in  white,  rich 
as  silk  can  be,  but  pure  white,  only  those  tea-rose 
buds  at  her  neck.  Corpo  di  Bacco  !  what  a  neck ! 
An  ivory  column  for  the  queenly  head!  And 
those  glossy  masses  of  hair,  worthy  to  shade  the 
brows  of  alma  Venus  herself!  " 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  present,  surrounded  by  a 
large  party. 

Miss  Thorpe,  who  never  attended  concerts,  nat- 
urally made  an  exception  in  this  case,  and  sat  near 
the  front,  but  at  one  side,  near  the  entrance  to 
the  stage. 

The  chords  were  given,  and  the  cavatina  began. 
Knowing  how  her  severe  master  had  been  affected 
by  her  singing,  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  any 
description  of  'the  impression  made  upon  this 
musically  cultivated  audience.  Critics  listened  in 
vain  to  find  the  least  point  of  objection.  The 
voice  was  melody  itself.  The  expression  was 
dictated  by  the  purest  taste,  and  enlivened  by 
dramatic  power ;  and,  as  if  by  instinct,  her  slight- 
est movements  were  in  harmony  with  the  senti- 
ment. It  was  her  first  venture,  and  yet  it  was 
as  if  she  had  trod  the  stage  all  her  life.  So  it 
seemed  to  the  audience ;  but  the  case  was  far 
different  in  the  heart  of  the  singer.  As  she  re- 
called her  sensations  afterwards,  she  felt  like  the 
somnambulist  walking  over  the  perilous  mill-race, 
while  the  tones  of  her  voice  sounded  as  if  made 
by  another,  and  heard  afar  in  a  dream.  Her 
smiles  were  the  automatic  expression  of  the  feel- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  237 


ings  that  possessed  her.  Her  artistic  style  of  sing- 
ing had  become  a  second  nature,  so  that  she  had 
but  to  open  her  mouth.  It  was  a  magnificent 
success ;  but  she  felt  that  it  was  the  result  of 
causes  wholly  apart  from  her  volition. 

As  she  ceased,  the  applause  was  long  and  loud, 
and  a  repetition  seemed  to  be  imperatively  de- 
manded. But  Phoebe  felt  unequal  to  the  task, 
and,  after  bowing  her  acknowledgments,  was  retir- 
ing, when  the  recall  arose  in  louder  tones,  and  she 
hesitated.  She  beckoned  to  the  accompanist,  and 
prepared  to  sing  the  ballad.  She  could  not  wait 
and  appear  again  :  it  must  be  done  on  the  instant 
for  she  felt  the  strain  on  her  nerves  was  too 
intense  to  be  borne.  The  audience  cheered  as  she 
came  forward,  and  she  took  her  place  at  the  side 
of  the  piano. 

The  ballad  was  the  well-known  "  Robin  Adair," 
a  piece  of  genuine  poetic  merit,  set  to  one  of 
the  finest  of  old  Celtic  melodies :  — 

Welcome  on  shore  again, 

Robin  Adair! 
Welcome  once  more  again, 

Robin  Adair ! 
I  feel  thy  trembling  hand : 
Tears  in  thy  eyelids  stand, 
To  greet  thy  native  land, 

Robin  Adair  1 

Come  to  my  heart  again, 

Robin  Adair ! 
Never  to  part  again, 

Robin  Adair ! 


238  MAN  PROPOSES. 

And,  if  thou  still  art  true, 
I  will  be  constant  too, 
And  will  wed  none  but  you, 
Robin  Adair! 


Now  a  strange  scene  was  enacted.  The  expres- 
sion of  Phoebe's  face  became  wonderfully  pathetic. 
Her  voice  alternately  melted  and  thrilled  the 
heart.  The  story  of  the  ballad  became  a  living 
reality,  as  when  Rachel  revived  a  classic  tragedy. 
The  tones  became  like  a  pain,  and  the  action  rose 
to  the  sublime.  Before  the  last  line  was  con- 
cluded, the  audience  rose  half  way,  and  leaned 
forward,  and  some  stood  on  their  feet,  a  tempestu- 
ous crowd,  excited  almost  to  frenzy.  With  the 
final  note  the  curtain  fell,  and  it  was  some  minutes 
before  quiet  was  restored.  It  was  then  announced 
that  the  singer  must  be  excused,  being  too  much 
indisposed  to  appear  again. 

The  burlesque  was  then  performed  with  im- 
mense success,  and  the  performance  ended. 

But  the  first  part  of  the  performance  had 
another  and  unexpected  issue.  When  the  cur- 
tain fell  upon  Phoebe's  song,  she  had  stepped 
back,  deadly  pale,  and  with  a  strange  look,  as  if 
beholding  some  sight  of  horror.  The  next  mo- 
ment she  was  prostrate  on  the  floor,  without  sense 
or  motion.  Luckily  the  performers  that  were  to 
take  part  in  the  burlesque  were  in  a  room  apart. 
The  manager  for  the  evening,  with  singular  pres- 
ence of  mind,  called  the  accompanist,  and  they 


MAN  PROPOSES.  239 

two  carried  her  away  to  a  side-room  without  a 
word.  A  carriage  was  procured,  Miss  Thorpe 
was  cautiously  beckoned  out,  and  the  still  uncon- 
scious girl  was  carried  home.  A  physician  was 
summoned,  and  every  expedient  was  resorted  to 
for  her  restoration.  By  midnight  she  moved  and 
moaned,  although  her  eyes  remained  closed.  At 
daybreak  she  looked  about,  and  spoke ;  but  her 
utterances  were  "  like  sweet  bells  jangled  out  of 
tune."  A  slow  nervous  fever  was  predicted,  —  a 
disease  that  would  test  the  strength  of  her  consti- 
tution, and  would  require  the  utmost  patience  of 
nurses  and  attendants. 

Miss  Thorpe  had  not  anticipated  such  a  result ; 
but  she  had  long  observed  Phoebe's  increasing 
susceptibility,  her  eager  movements  and  smileless 
looks.  She  had  drawn  certain  conclusions  as  to 
the  girl's  feelings  towards  the  absent  Roderick 
and  to  his  unhappy  mother,  and  she  believed  she 
saw  in  the  irritation  that  had  been  produced  by 
that  mother's  reproaches  constantly  acting  upon 
a  sensitive  nature  a  sufficient  cause  for  the  attack ; 
for  Phoebe  professed  that  her  labors  as  a  teacher 
were  not  beyond  her  strength.  Miss  Thorpe 
meditated  upon  this,  and  determined  to  acquaint 
Mrs.  Prescott  in  as  delicate  a  way  as  possible  with 
the  facts,  and  to  beg  her  not  to  come  into  Phoebe's 
presence  until  the  morbid  excitement  had  sub- 
sided. 

She  reasoned  well,  but  did  not  act  promptly 
enough.  "  111  news,"  they  say,  "  flies  fast."  Mrs. 


240  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Prescott  was  not  long  in  hearing  of  Phoebe's  sud- 
den and  alarming  illness,  and  came  at  once  to  see 
her.  Miss  Thorpe  was  absent  for  the  moment; 
and  the  visitor  brushed  past  the  servant,  and 
entered  the  chamber  where  Phoebe  lay.  Mrs. 
Prescott  came  towards  the  bedside,  and  reached 
out  her  hand.  The  poor  girl  beheld  her  with 
wildly  staring  eyes,  and  exclaimed,  "  I  did  not  do 
it ;  ask  him.  He  is  not  dead ;  no,  only  he  limps. 
His  head  is  bound  up,  his  arm  in  a  sling.  But 
he  was  good  to  me  at  last  —  not  always.  Any 
young  man  may  love  his  mother ;  the  mother 
doesn't  know  —  nor  Polonius.  But  he  is  good 
now.  He  wants  me  to  love  him:  perhaps  I  shall. 
I  am  Ophelia  ;  but  I  can't  find  any  flowers  for  a 
garland,  so  I  must  wait  here.  I  have  no  brother 
to  fight  for  me." 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  so  shocked,  that  she  could 
neither  speak  nor  move.  Phcebe  would  not  take 
her  hand,  and  by  every  tone  and  gesture  repelled 
her  advances. 

At  this  point  Miss  Thorpe  entered,  and  compre- 
hended what  was  passing.  She  stepped  lightly 
between  her  visitor  and  the  bed ;  and,  while  she 
smoothed  Phoebe's  brow  with  one  hand,  she  made 
a  warning  sign  to  the  visitor  with  the  other.  Still 
covering  Mrs.  Prescott  from  Phoebe's  sight,  she 
pointed  towards  the  door,  and  then  followed  the 
astonished  woman  out.  As  the}r  talked  in  low 
tones  in  the  passage-way,  Phoebe's  voice  came  in 
plaintive,  fragmentary  sentences,  —  fragments  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  241 

speech  and  wild  strains  of  song,  with  merry  little 
laughs  and  melancholy  interjections.  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott  wept  as  she  listened.  Miss  Thorpe  was  kind 
enough  to  suppress  much  of  what  she  thought,  and 
only  suggested,  that,  in  certain  states  of  aberration 
of  mind,  the  nearest  friends  are  objects  of  the 
strongest  dislike. 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  greatly  overcome,  but  soon, 
remembering  that  the  girl  needed  Miss  Thorpe's 
constant  attention,  she  reluctantly  went  home. 
She  had  a  glimpse  of  the  truth,  and  it  was  sad 
enough :  to  have  known  the  whole  would  have 
been  more  than  she  could  bear.  She  saw  that  she 
must  resign  Phcebe  wholly  to  Miss  Thorpe's  care. 
Imagine  the  thrill  she  experienced,  with 
Phoebe's  incoherent  sentences  still  sounding  in 
her  ears,  when,  on  reaching  home,  she  opened  a 
letter  just  come  from  her  Roderick,  in  which  he 
mentioned  that  he  had  been  injured  by  the  explo- 
sion of  a  shell,  and  was  suffering  from  a  bruise  on 
his  foot,  a  contusion  on  his  head,  and  a  sprained 
wrist.  There  was  reason,  then,  for  his  limp,  for 
his  bandaged  head,  and  his  suspended  arm. 


242  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  physician  was  a  wise  and  observant  man,  — 
a  phenomenon  by  no  means  so  rare  in  our  day  as 
formerly.  When  Miss  Thorpe  described  Phoebe's 
conduct  on  seeing  her  aunt,  and  told  of  her 
half  droll,  half  pathetic  sayings  during  the  night, 
he  only  advised  perfect  quiet  and  seclusion. 
Opiates  or  nerve-soothing  medicines,  he  said, 
might,  in  the  end,  reduce  her  strength  enough  to 
counterbalance  all  that  was  gained.  If  she  wished 
to  talk,  she  must  not  be  prevented,  only  gently 
led,  like  a  child,  to  pleasant  views  of  things.  So 
during  the  long  day  the  poor  girl  uttered  discon- 
nected phrases,  mingling  her  varied  experiences 
till  all  the  threads  of  the  warp  and  woof  of  her 
life  were  inwoven  into  the  strangest  though  often 
the  most  affecting  figures. 

It  was  a  case  of  exaltation,  of  strong  nervous 
excitement,  not  of  dementia.  In  many  respects 
she  was  at  intervals  almost  perfectly  sensible. 
The  chief  peculiarity  was  the  presence  of  visions 
of  the  absent.  She  mentioned  no  names,  but 
related  adventures  as  if  she  were  actually  behold- 
ing them.  She  narrated  an  officer's  escape  one 
day  with  wonderful  spirit :  — 


MAN  PROPOSES.  243 

"  It  is  a  deep-chested,  powerful  horse ;  his  head 
is  held  low,  and  thrust  forward ;  the  nostrils  are 
distended;  and  I  see  the  muscles  of  his  thighs 
play  under  the  glossy  skin.  The  rider  does  not 
spur :  no,  the  noble  animal  needs  no  spur.  The 
rider  leans  forward,  pats  his  neck  lovingly,  and 
the  horse  makes  leaps  like  a  flying  creature.  The 
rider  is  one :  the  pursuers  are  many,  and  are  clat- 
tering close  behind.  There  !  there !  THERE  ! 
Their  pistols  flash ;  but  the  horseman  does  not 
stop,  nor  look  back.  Oh,  how  the  horse  pants 
along  the  white  dusty  road  up  that  long  hill ! 
How  the  enemy  come  yelling  on  behind! 

"Now  there  is  an  open  stretch.  A  few  miles 
more,  good  horse !  The  distance  from  the  pursu- 
ers increases.  They  feel  it,  and  again,  flash,  flash ! 
go  their  pistols,  while  their  baffled  rage  is  heard 
in  their  despairing  cries.  Still  on  goes  the  noble 
horse,  and  now  he  dashes  past  the  friendly  pickets. 
How  they  cheer !  Glory  to  God  !  He  is  safe.  The 
squadron  of  cavalry  posted  near  now  rides  for- 
ward. The  order  is  to  charge.  Away  they  gallop. 
The  pursuing  enemy  wheel,  and  ride  back,  but  not 
till  some  saddles  are  empty.  Friends  welcome 
the  brave  man,  and  they  praise  the  noble  and  en- 
during horse.  The  horse  shall  never  be  put  in 
peril  again.  He  shall  feed  in  green  pastures 
henceforth." 

At  another  time  her  mind  was  far  away,  fixed 
upon  a  strange  scene.  The  scene  grew  into  an 
act,  and  the  act  was  protracted  into  a  drama  that 


244  MAN  PROPOSES. 

lasted  many  days.  This  may  serve  for  a  sum- 
mary of  the  sentences  and  ejaculations  that  came 
at  intervals :  — 

"Immense,  gloomy  forests,  hung  with  mossy 
beards  filled  with  thick  undergrowth  and  tangled 
vines,  spread  on  every  side.  The  ground  is  damp, 
and  the  stagnant  pools  are  mantled  with  green. 
Strange  bright  birds  are  in  the  boughs.  At  night 
there  are  whippoorwills ;  mocking-birds  sing  all 
day ;  while  serpents,  lizards,  and  lazy  alligators 
lurk  among  the  dark  bushes,  or  glide  along  the 
dull  water-courses." 

"  Pressing  through  briers  and  bushes,  I  see  a 
man  in  the  wretched  fragments  of  a  uniform. 
His  face  is  sunburned  and  anxious ;  his  hands 
are  scratched ;  there  are  blood-stains  showing 
through  the  torn  clothes.  The  man  reaches  the 
bank  of  a  large  river.  Screened  from  view,  he 
waits  till  the  sun  goes  down  and  the  stars  rise  : 
and  now  he  looks  that  he  may  know  the  points  of 
the  compass.  He  is  so  hungry  that  he  could  even 
eat  a  reptile  if  he  could  catch  one.  But  he  finds 
a  log,  and  he  rolls  it  into  the  water :  he  takes  a 
smaller  piece  of  wood  that  is  to  serve  him  for 
a  paddle,  and,  if  necessary,  for  a  weapon.  Astride 
the  log,  he  floats  mid-stream,  holding  his  course 
with  the  rude  paddle,  and  keeping  .watch  for  alli- 
gators. All  night  he  floats,  until  now  the  stars 
begin  to  fade.  Further  progress  is  dangerous. 
How  he  watches  the  banks  !  He  sees  a  faint  blue 
smoke :  it  rises  from  a  cabin,  a  mere  heap  of 


MAN  PROPOSES.  245 

blackened  logs  on  the  bank.  He  reconnoitres.  A 
negro  comes  out.  How  the  lonely  voyager  blesses 
God  for  the  sight  of  that  black  face  !  The  negro 
has  a  gun  ;  he  raises  it,  and  stands  in  position. 
'  A  friend ! '  cries  the  wretched  and  famished 
soldier,  showing  some  remains  of  his  uniform. 
The  gun  is  dropped,  and  the  soldier  is  welcomed. 
His  log  is  shoved  ashore.  A  few  sweet-potatoes 
roasted  in  the  embers  make  the  most  delicious 
breakfast  the  soldier  ever  ate.  But  the  cabin 
is  a  dangerous  place  for  a  loiterer.  Up  in  a  full- 
topped  tree,  out  of  sight  of  his  friend,  the  soldier 
climbs,  and  passes  the  long  day,  longing  for  the 
night.  With  a  few  potatoes,  he  sets  out  again 
under  cover  of  darkness,  floating  towards  the  sea. 
The  next  day  he  finds  another  cabin  ;  he  espies 
another  black  man :  they  are  always  friendly  to 
his  colors.  But  does  he  trust  his  friends  ?  No,  I 
see  he  does  not :  the  risk  is  too  great.  He  eats 
the  potatoes,  or,  it  may  be  the  bit  of  hard  corn- 
bread,  and,  having  given  his  thanks,  withdraws  to 
his  fastness,  his  watch-tower  in  a  tree-top,  unseen 
of  any.  Only  God  looks  down  upon  him,  and  the 
angels  pity  him. 

"  The  river  flows  on ;  the  days  go  by.  The 
soldier  on  his  log  floats  past  earth-mounds,  and 
great  guns,  and  scattered  pickets :  he  is  sometimes 
challenged  and  fired  at,  but  never  hit.-  He  begins, 
so  he  hopes,  to  smell  the  grateful  odor  of  the  sea. 
It  is  quite  time.  The  sun  has  roasted  him ; 
insects  have  bitten  him ;  thorns  have  lacerated 


246  MAN  PROPOSES. 

him ;  his  hair  and  his  nails  are  like  those  of  a 
beast;  his  feet  are  swollen,  —  alternately  softened 
in  water,  and  then  bruised  on  shore.  His  mother 
would  not  know  him  ;  but  any  mother  would  cry 
over  such  a  pitiable  object. 

"  Coming  down  from  his  perch  in  a  tree,  he 
hears  a  horrible  sound.  He  has  never  heard  it 
before  :  it  is  a  strange  sound.  His  heart  fails  him, 
—  it  must  be  the  bark  of  a  bloodhound.  He 
sees  a  fierce  dog  approaching ;  he  must  despatch 
this  one  before  his  fellows  come.  The  paddle- 
club  does  its  work  well,  and  the  fugitive  takes  to 
the  river  again.  Ah,  yes ;  the  water  will  break 
the  scent.  On  he  floats,  for  he  prefers  death 
from  a  bullet  to  a  grapple  with  the  ferocious 
hounds.  All  day  he  hears  their  distant  baying. 
Luckily  no  eyes  observe  him ;  none,  at  least,  but 
the  eyes  of  skulkers  like  himself.  Now,  as  he 
thinks  of  the  distance,  he  must  leave  the  river. 
There  must  be  danger  ahead,  for  the  river's 
mouth  is  closely  watched.  Guided  by  the  power 
that  guides  the  far-flying  bird,  he  strikes  into  the 
forest.  Oh  the  labor,  the  pain,  hunger,  wounds, 
and  heart-ache !  At  length  the  white  sands  are 
near :  he  hears  the  billows  come  wallowing  upon 
the  smooth  white  beach.  He  is  naked,  —  oh,  hor- 
ror! and  a  map  of  his  bruises  would  be  such  a 
wretched  sight  — 

"  There  lie  the  giant  ships  out  on  the  tumbling 
plain ;  the  bright  ensigns  float  from  the  mast- 
heads. On  that  blue  plain  is  heaven ;  in  the 
forest  behind  is  "  — 


MAN  PROPOSES.  247 

The  narrator  could  go  no  further;  the  picture 
was  too  horrible ;  the  suspense  could  not  be 
borne.  From  mere  faintness  she  ceased,  closed 
her  eyes  in  a  blessed  swoon,  and  afterwards  slept. 

From  this  time  gentle  opiates  were  given  daily, 
and  the  startling  visions  came  no  more.  Brief 
glimpses  of  battle,  of  flight,  of  wounds  and  cap- 
tivity came,  but  only  at  rare  intervals. 

Signer  Belvedere  had  been  present  while 
Phrebe's  fevered  brain  had  conjured  up  some  of 
these  terrible  visions,  although  out  of  her  sight. 
He  sat  with  Miss  Thorpe  in  a  recess  near  by,  and 
when,  at  length,  she  slept,  her  condition  was  dis- 
cussed. He  was  naturally  sympathetic,  although 
his  instinct  would  have  led  him  to  avoid  such 
painful  scenes. 

"Ah,  Miss  Thorpe,  but  this  is  dreadful!  It 
is  not  a  malady  of  body,  but  of  soul.  To  the 
doctor  I  would  say,  'Canst  thou  minister  to  a 
mind  diseas-ed  ?  pluck  up  the  memory  of  a  rooted 
sorrow  ? ' ' 

"  Something  to  turn  the  current  of  her  thought 
is  needed,"  said  Miss  Thorpe. 

"  But  what  can  do  it  ?  Bring  her  lover  back  ? 
Impossible.  Take  her  to  him  ?  Impossible." 

"  What  do  you  suggest,  then  ?  " 

"  A  change  of  scene.     A  voyage  to  Europe." 

"  She  could  not  survive  it." 

"  But  how  long  will  she  survive  this?" 

"  True.  Something  must  be  risked.  But  she 
must  gain  somewhat  in  strength  first.  And  mean- 


248  MAN  PROPOSES. 

time  we  may  interest  her  in  her  English  relatives." 
A  long  conversation  ensued  upon  the  question  of 
Phoebe's  parentage,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  had 
been  taken  for  granted,  but  had  not  been  legally 
established.  The  marriage  of  Roderick  Manning 
to  the  countess,  and  the  birth  of  Phoebe  as  an 
issue  of  that  marriage  rather  than  of  the  former 
one,  were  not  yet  fully  proven.  Signor  Belve- 
dere thought  that  Phoebe  should  not  risk  a  rejec- 
tion of  her  claim,  but  should  go  to  England  armed 
with  full  proof,  if  she  went  at  all.  An  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  might  overthrow  her  reason  alto- 
gether. As  the  matter  now  stood,  Mrs.  Prescott 
could  not  be  consulted,  at  least  in  Phoebe's  pres- 
ence. Mr.  Prescott  would  not  be  likely  to  under- 
take the  voyage,  because  he  was  of  an  age  to  make 
it  appear  a  serious  undertaking,  because  he  would 
be  too  proud  to  act  vigorously  to  secure  a  legacy 
for  his  wife's  niece  under  such  circumstances,  and 
because  he  would  take  no  step  that  might  result 
in  his  losing  her. 

The  fact  remained  that  no  reply  had  come  from 
Ralph  Manning,  and  the  proof  as  it  was  sent  over 
was  undoubtedly  insufficient  in  law  in  several 
particulars.  Signor  Belvedere  meditated,  and 
went  home — to  meditate  more  at  his  leisure. 

Phoebe  remained  an  invalid.  While  under  the 
influence  of  her  imagination  in  trances,  her  intel- 
lect showed  all  its  original  force,  though  sadly 
unbalanced ;  but,  when  these  visions  ended,  she 
was  silent,  as  if  mind  and  body  were  in  slow 


MAN  PROPOSES.  249 

decay  together.  She  was  after  a  time  able  to  sit 
up ;  but  she  rarely  uttered  a  word,  only  now  and 
then  with  a  sigh  she  half  whispered,  "  For  you  I 
have  lost  my  son."  So  the  weeks  passed.  It 
seemed  as  if  nature  could  not  long  hold  out  with- 
out a  mental  change.  "•  Something  must  be  done 
to  rouse  her,"  thought  Miss  Thorpe. 

But  a  thought  and  a  purpose  had  been  matur- 
ing in  Phoebe's  mind  which  they  little  guessed. 
In  her  dreams  she  had  been  journeying  through 
the  seat  of  war.  She  wondered  if  she  were  ever 
to  be  strong  enough  to  go  there.  Could  she  be 
allowed  to  go  ?  Were  there  means  for  women  to 
live  in  camps  or  in  fortified  towns  ?  Who  would 
go  with  her  ?  Signer  Belvedere  ?  No ;  for  she 
hoped  he  would  go  to  Europe  in  the  spring.  Mr. 
Hugh  Prescott  ?  Yes,  probably.  Catching  at  this, 
her  soul  climbed  as  to  a  serene  hope,  and  the  ner- 
vous discord  within  began  to  subside. 

With  as  much  tranquillity  as  she  could  com- 
mand, Phoebe  said,  "Could  we  not  go  South  to 
meet  the  spring?  It  comes  late  here.  I  should 
like  to  be  out  of  doors,  in  a  softer  air." 

It  was  a  voice  as  sweet  as  a  silver  bell,  and  its 
undulations  trembled  in  the  heart. 

"  Perhaps  so,  my  dear,"  answered  Miss  Thorpe, 
"  when  you  are  able  to  bear  such  a  journey." 

Miss  Thorpe  herself  was  worn  by  her  constant 
care ;  and  a  cough  that  had  haunted  her  before 
began  to  be  troublesome.  Had  it  been  in  time  of 
peace,  she  would  have  desired  to  go  to  some  South- 


250  MAN  PROPOSES. 

ern  city  so  as  to  breathe  a  softer  air  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  season.  Some  of  the  Southern 
ports  were  occupied  by  our  troops ;  and  Miss 
Thorpe  conceived  that  permission  might  be  ob- 
tained from  the  secretary  of  war  for  a  small  party 
to  sail  there  in  a  government  vessel.  She  broached 
the  matter  to  the  physician  the  same  day,  and, 
rather  to  her  surprise,  found  him  decidedly  in 
favor  of  the  project.  Still  she  feared  the  difficul- 
ties would  be  great. 

She  consulted  Mr.  Prescott.  She  reasoned  that 
Phoebe's  aversion  to  that  family  would  vanish  as 
soon  as  sanity  returned,  and  that,  if  she  could  be 
made  to  take  an  interest  in  such  a  trip,  the  new 
circumstances  would  tend  to  dispel  the  illusions 
that  had  clouded  her  mind. 

Mr.  Prescott  was  doubtful  about  the  ability  of 
delicate  women  to  bear  the  hardship  of  a  winter 
voyage  on  our  stormy  coast,  and  he  feared  they 
would  also  miss  many  comforts  while  living  in 
towns  occupied  by  troops ;  but  for  himself  he  was 
ready  to  bear  them  company.  He  suggested  that 
Amory,  who  had  returned  for  the  winter,  should 
go  also.  "  We  want  a  spry  young  man  to  wait 
upon  us,"  he  said ;  "  and  we  may  have  something 
new  from  him  upon  the  sublimity  of  the  sea,  or 
upon  the  grandeur  of  a  battle. 

"  As  for  Mrs.  Prescott,"  he  continued,  "  I  don't 
think  it  is  best  for  her  to  go.  She  is  in  a  terrible 
state  about  Roderick.  She  has  not  heard  from 
him  personally  for  some  little  time,  although  the 


MAN  PROPOSES.  251 

papers  have  been  mentioning  his  name  almost 
every  day,  and  with  great  praise.  It  really  seems 
he  has  turned  out  a  hero.  I  knew  he  was  brave  ; 
but  I  did  not  give  him  credit  for  so  much  capacity. 
It  is  said  he  has  planned  and  carried  out  some 
brilliant  movements." 

"Probably  your  judgment  is  right  about  Mrs. 
Prescott's  going.  She  is  a  fond  mother,  and  her 
heart  is  sore.  Has  she  seen  —  have  you  seen  the 
telegrams  of  to-day  ?  Pardon  me,  if  I  am 
abrupt." 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  have  seen  them ;  but  she  has  not. 
Nothing  can  be  certain  when  such  conflicting 
reports  are  sent.  Now  it  is  that  Col.  Prescott 
received  thanks  for  his  gallant  conduct.  Now  it 
is  Col.  Prescott  who  was  taken  prisoner,  and  sent 
to  the  pen  at  Florence.  Now  it  is  Col.  Prescott 
that  escaped  to  the  fleet.  Now  the  news  comes 
that  the  same  officer  was  left  for  dead  on  the 
field.  I  have  faith  in  Roderick's  luck.  The 
Southern  bullets  are  not  to  kill  him.  He  will 
come  back.  He  will  come  back." 

"  Does  his  mother  read  the  papers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  I  can't  keep  them 
from  her.  But  this  last  report,  left  for  dead,  she 
has  not  seen." 

"But  I  should  think  that  the  authorities  would 
know  about  some  of  these  reports.  Are  not  the 
places  given?  And,  if  Col.  Prescott  had  been 
taken  prisoner  at  one  place,  he  couldn't  be  lead- 
ing his  regiment  at  another." 


252  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Every  thing  appears  to  be  mixed  up.  I  don't 
know  the  geography  very  well ;  and  lots  of  the 
names  are  not  on  the  maps.  It  is  hard  to  say 
what  the  truth  is.  Time  will  show." 

It  was  agreed  then  that  Mr.  Prescott  and 
Mr.  Amory  would  accompany  Miss  Thorpe  and 
Phoebe,  provided  the  permits  could  be  got  from 
the  war  department,  as  soon  as  the  conditions 
were  favorable. 

Phcebe  appeared  to  be  only  dreaming.  She 
was  slowly  recuperating,  however,  and  her  half 
sad  smiles  and  faintly  moving  lips  told  of  sweet 
and  tender  thoughts. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  253 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

IN  the  early  part  of  January,  one  fine  bright 
day,  Phoebe  was  sitting  in  an  easy-chair,  looking 
out  of  an  upper  window,  when  she  saw  Signer 
Belvedere  approaching  the  house.  The  delusions 
that  had  so  long  enthralled  her  faculties  seemed 
to  have  vanished,  like  frost-pictures  from  the  win- 
dow-panes, leaving  the  outlook  clear.  In  a  few 
moments  he  was  in  the  room,  attended  by  Miss 
Thorpe.  Phcebe  looked  at  them  with  clear  and 
loving  eyes.  She  was  still  pale  and  wan ;  but  the 
wild  lights  and  dark  shadows  had  gone  from  her 
eyes,  and  the  old  trustful  look  had  come  back. 
The  master  was  greatly  affected,  though  he  strove 
to  mask  his  feeling  under  a  show  of  gayety. 
Gently  taking  her  hand,  he  said,  — 

"  Bless  your  eyes,  Miss  Phaybe,  this  is  a  mira- 
cle !  You  are  so  lovely  to-day !  How  I  envy  Miss 
Thorpe  the  pleasure  of  sitting  before  you !  And 
now  you  are  to'  grow  strongg  and  rosy  and  joyous, 
and  to  sing  again !  Ah,  yes !  when  I  see  you  again, 
you  will  sing  to  me  a  cavatina." 

Phoebe  smiled;  but  a  look  of  melancholy  fol- 
lowed, as  she  replied,  "  I  fear  you  will  wait  some 
time."  Tears  came  to  her  eyes  for  mere  weakness. 


254  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Miss  Thorpe  soothed  her,  and  said,  "The  signor 
has  come  with  his  p.  p.  c.  He  is  going  on  a  little 
trip,  and  expects  you  to  be  well  on  his  return." 

Phoebe  for  an  instant  looked  inquiringly,  but 
quickly  turned  on  him  her  beautiful  eyes  with  a 
look  of  the  deepest  gratitude. 

"It  is  a  little  trip,"  he  said,  "in  one  point  of 
view.  It  is  but  a  little  part  of  the  earth's  circle. 
But,  my  dear  pupil,  it  is  for  you  that  I  am  going 
away." 

"  For  me  ?  "  and  she  looked  radiant. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Thorpe.  "  The  signor  is  good 
enough  to  interest  himself  in  a  matter  that  is  very 
near  to  us  all.  You  know,  we  wish  to  know  more 
about  your  father  and  mother ;  and  it  seems  to  be 
necessary  for  some  one  to  make  the  journey.  We 
won't  weary  you  by  talking  to-day,  but  will  ex- 
plain more  fully  when  you  are  stronger." 

"  All  the  way  over  the  stormy  and  dreadful  sea 
—  and  for  poor  me.  It  is  too  much." 

"  I  wish  you  could  go  with  me,  Meess  Phaybe. 
You  would  come  back  as  hearty  as  the  first  mate. 
And  you  would  see  all  about  your  fortune  for 
yourself." 

Phoebe  looked  at  him  a  moment  steadfastly. 
"  Not  for  the  fortune,  no :  I  would  not  make  the 
passage  to  Europe  —  for  the  fortune.  If  I  live,  I 
can  teach.  How  long  have  I  been  here,  —  in  this 
room,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Don't  agitate  yourself,  dear,"  interposed  Miss 
Thorpe.  "  You  have  been  here  for  some  time." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  255 

"  And  what  month  is  it  ?  " 

"  January." 

She  mused  a  while,  and  then  murmured  to  her- 
self, —  "  three  months,  and  yet  only  a  dream." 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  be  moved  by  and  by, 
and  venture  out  ?  "  asked  Miss  Thorpe. 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Phoebe  in  a  faint  tone. 
Then  in  a  louder  voice  she  added,  "  If  I  could,  I 
know  where  I  would.  I  have  been  humming  '  Oh 
that  I  had  wings! '  I  should  fly  to  sunny  weather." 

"  And  would  you  really  go  South  in  this  dread- 
ful war-time  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered  with  an  excited  look.  "I 
am  not  afraid.  I  think  I  must  have  been  there: 
I  think  I  should  know  the  landscapes.  And  I  do 
know  the  faces  that  I  have  seen.  I  should  find 
friends,  protectors." 

"  Pray,  be  calmer,"  said  Miss  Thorpe.  "  Think, 
please,  that  we  want  you  tranquil,  so  that  you  may 
become  able  to  go.  For  if  you  can  improve  for  a 
few  weeks,  and  get  some  strength  and  appetite  and 
color,  we  will  endeavor  to  gratify  your  wishes." 

Phoebe's  eyes  closed ;  her  hands  were  crossed 
upon  her  breast,  her  lips  moved,  and  a  faint 
approach  to  a  smile  spread  over  her  features. 
She  could  not  speak ;  but,  as  soon  as  she  unclosed 
the  lids,  her  eyes  beamed  with  an  expression  so 
grateful,  so  touching,  so  eloquent,  that  her  friends 
were  thrilled,  and  by  the  same  impulse  moved 
nearer,  and  gently  caressed  her  thin  hands. 

A  moment  later  Signer  Belvedere  arose,   and 


256  MAN  PROPOSES. 

having,  by  some  feat  of  prestidigitation,  cleared 
the  rheum  from  his  eyes,  with  his  silk  handker- 
chief blew  a  sonorous  nasal  blast  that  set  Phosbe 
to  laughing  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  Farewell !  "  he  said.  "  Cras  ingens  iterabimus 
cequor.  I  have  not-a  seen  Italy  for  many  years. 
I  wish  to  settle  the  affairs  between  Papa  Pius  and 
Victor  Emmanuel,  and  abridge  the  un-a-constitu- 
tional  spread  of  his  warlike  mustachios.  There 
are  other  persons  I  would  see,  notably  a  family  in 
Florence,  for  whose  name  Belvedere  has  been  a 
pleasant  substitute.  '  Noblesse '  obliges  in  many 
ways ;  and  if  a  chevalier  with  a  longg  pedigree 
at  his-a  back  insists  on  giving  music  lessons,  even 
in  a  foreign  land,  he  will  not  con-a-taminate  the 
name  of  his  noble  kinsmen.  It  is  not  Delle 
Torre  —  the  name  —  but  it  is  well  enough.  It 
cannot  have  happen-ed  that  a  Delle  Torre  con- 
tracted marriage  that  is  not-a  recorded.  Then  for 
England,  and,  when  the  roses  come,  back  to  this 
pleasant  and  drowsy  little  city.  Farewell ! " 

He  was  gone.  Phosbe  had  listened  to  his  gay 
but  suggestive  sentences,  first  amused,  then  inter- 
ested, then  excited.  But  it  was  marvellous  to  see 
how  she  bore  it.  Her  mind  had  rapidly  regained 
its  equilibrium.  Though  her  nerves  were  still 
tremulous,  and  her  strength  almost  a  negative 
quantity,  she  had  clear  vision  and  the  natural  sen- 
sations. Miss  Thorpe  had  watched  her  anxiously, 
and  was  rejoiced  when  the  strain  of  the  interview 
was  ended. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  257 


The  parting  words  of  the  music-master  gave 
both  Miss  Thorpe  and  Phoebe  enough  to  reflect 
upon.  For  many  days  the  person  and  character 
of  this  brilliant  and  eccentric  man  were  discussed. 
Phoebe  recalled  his  fencing-foils,  and  his  habitual 
military  port,  the  perfection  of  details  in  dress,  — 
impossible  for  any  but  men  of  the  highest  ton,  — 
the  rare  intaglio  in  his  signet-ring  and  the  priceless 
work  upon  his  scarf-pin,  and  above  all  his  man- 
ners, in  which  a  commanding  air  of  superiority 
was  blended  with  the  most  subtile,  flattering  atten- 
tion and  deference.  These  things  were  evidently 
part  of  the  history  of  a  man  once  in  high  station. 

It  was  as  good  as  a  play  to  notice  the  bland 
courtesy  of  the  fine  aristocrat.  His  professional 
income  must  have  been  ample ;  but  it  was  not 
wholly  for  money  that  he  taught.  He  would 
instruct  whom  he  chose,  and  no  others.  The  best 
houses  in  the  city  had  always  been  open  to  him. 
The  foreign  residents  apparently  avoided  him. 
He  did  not  much  dissemble  towards  the  unedu- 
cated and  vulgar,  but  moved  before  them  with  a 
calm  dignity  that  made  him  as  distant  as  Mont 
Blanc  from  the  Italian  plains.  He  was  a  splendid 
mystery  while  near,  and  not  less  so  now  that  he 
had  gone. 

It  will  be  readily  believed  that  the  recovery  of 
the  invalid  was  thenceforth  rapid.  There  seemed 
to  have  arisen  for  her  new  objects  in  life.  How 
much  had  been  done  for  her,  and  by  how  many 
persons  of  mark !  —  the  noble  Italian  was  crossing 


258  MAN  PROPOSES. 

the  wintry  seas  for  her;  and  now,  for  her  sake, 
her  friends  were  going  to  sail  far  southward,  and 
venture  into  the  midst  of  armies  in  constant 
activity,  and  surrounded  by  vigilant  foes.  Her 
spirits  rose  with  the  occasion,  and  all  the  native 
timidity  of  the  maiden  was  forgotten.  She  longed 
for  the  time  to  come.  The  huge  hulk  of  a  ship  is 
steered  by  a  small  rudder.  A  girl's  will,  appar- 
ently so  feeble  and  so  yielding,  had  brought  about 
two  great  purposes.  A  sagacious  and  zealous 
agent  had  started  to  ascertain  her  parentage  ;  and 
now  the  friends  who  were  nearest  were  constrained 
to  accompany  her  to  the  region  she  had  dreamed 
of, — perhaps  to  her  destiny.  Yet  the  influences 
had  not  been  obvious  to  the  persons  she  had 
moved.  Her  inmost  wishes  had  been  fulfilled  as 
if  by  spirit  acting  upon  obedient  matter.  The 
time  of  visions  had  passed  :  the  realities  were  now 
to  come. 

Preparations  for  the  voyage  were  rapidly  made. 
Mr.  Prescott  obtained  the  necessary  permission 
from  the  authorities  at  Washington,  and  passes, 
for  his  party  to  sail  in  the  steamer  "  Leverrier," 
from  New  York.  Only  the  physician  and  a  few 
intimate  friends  knew  of  the  project.  Mary  Pres- 
cott was  sent  for  from  the  country  to  stay  with 
her  aunt;  and  without. a  farewell  call,  or  the  least 
ripple  of  excitement,  the  adventurers  set  out. 
Phoebe  appeared  the  cheerful  and  calm  leader  of 
the  party.  They  reached  New  York  without  any 
incident,  and  without  fatigue.  The  "  Leverrier," 


MAN  PROPOSES.  259 

a  steamer  of  over  three  thousand  tons,  carrying 
provisions,  arms,  army  stores,  and  a  large  number 
of  recruits,  was  to  sail  as  soon  as  she  could  be  got 
ready.  When  a  steamer  sets  out  for  Europe  with 
a  crowd  of  happy  tourists,  while  friends  on  the 
dock  are  waving  white  handkerchiefs,  and  smiles 
are  chasing  tears,  and  pleasant  words  and  airy 
farewells  are  flung,  —  that  is  a  joyous  scene.  The 
sailing  of  the  "  Leverrier  "  furnished  a  very  differ- 
ent spectacle.  It  was  at  the  time  of  the  lowest  ebb 
in  the  fortunes  of  the  nation.  Soldiers  no  longer 
went  away  humming  La  donna  e  mobile :  it  was  a 
serious  business.  The  sailors  had  seen  such  inces- 
sant labor,  that  they  snapped  out  every  word  with 
oaths,  and  with  the  expression  of  mastiffs.  The 
petty  officers,  mates  and  the  like,  were  fiercer 
than  the  sailors.  They  howled  their  orders  like 
demons ;  and,  amidst  a  babel  that  could  only  be 
paralleled  by  the  New- York  Gold  Board  on  the 
memorable  Black  Friday,  the  work  of  loading  the 
great  vessel  went  on.  To  a  landsman  it  seemed 
as  if  every  thing  was  pitched  pell-mell  into  the 
hold.  The  captain  had  his  eye  upon  the  scene 
probably ;  but  he  was  invisible  until  steam  was  up 
and  the  hawser  was  cast  off.  The  other  superior 
officers  looked  as  if  they  had  been  brought  up 
under  Charon,  and  acquired  their  civility  in.  ferry- 
ing huddles  of  damned  souls  across  the  Styx. 
Whoever  was  upon  the  ship,  in  their  view,  was 
an  inferior  being,  except  the  military  officer  of 
highest  rank  on  board :  he  was  the  "  king  pin  ;  " 


260  MAN  PROPOSES. 

and  every  one,  even  the  captain,  had  to  render 
him  implicit  obedience.  It  was  for  him  to  say 
when  meals  should  be  served,  and  who  might  sit 
at  table  ;  whether  any  one  might  smoke,  and,  if  so, 
where.  But  over  the  civil  passengers  the  ship's 
officers  had  full  sway,  and  every  civilian  was  a 
dog.  It  was  a  rash  man,  who,  Avithout  epaulets, 
dared  ask  an  officer  which  way  was  the  wind,  or 
how  the  ship  was  heading,  or  how  many  knots  an 
hour  were  made.  The  questioner  was  pulling  a 
plug,  and  he  could  not  tell  what  scalding  or  filthy 
gush  would  come  upon  him. 

Into  this  scene,  where  hundreds  of  men  were 
exerting  every  energy  to  do  the  work  of  many 
days  in  one ;  where  turmoil  was  incessant,  and 
cursing  only  a  common  mode  of  breathing ;  where 
frantic  beings,  unwashed  and  uncombed,  rushed 
about,  rolling  barrels,  tilting  boxes,  and  propelling 
trucks ;  where  drays  jammed  in  with  endless  loads ; 
and  where  stern  men  in  blue  overcoats,  with  guns 
and  bayonets,  kept  off  the  ill-looking  crowd  of 
loungers,  —  into  this  scene,  preceded  by  a  friendly 
young  lieutenant,  came  the  delicate  Miss  Thorpe 
(a  diminutive  Minerva)  and  Miss  Phoebe  (a  slen- 
der but  stately  Diana)  and  the  two  gentlemen. 

At  sight  of  the  women  a  lane  was  made  with- 
out remark :  only  the  under  officers  swore ;  for 
them  it  was  a  state-room  less.  The  ladies  were 
shown  at  once  to  a  large  room  well  astern,  in 
which  were  two  wide  berths,  a  sofa,  and  a  lounge. 
Two  ladies,  wives  of  officers,  were  to  be  their 
room-mates. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  261 

Mr.  Prescott  and  Amory  were  to  have  berths 
nearer  amidships.  Only  one  cabin  was  saved  for 
the  use  of  the  passengers :  the  others  were  filled 
with  stores  or  hammocks.  All  prudent  passen- 
gers, male  and  female,  brought  their  own  wraps 
and  bed-clothing. 

It  was  in  February,  and  the  cold  was  intense. 
The  air  seemed  to  be  full  of  ice-needles.  No  one 
could  walk  the  deck  in  comfort,  least  of  all  a 
woman  in  shawls  and  skirts.  A  steam  pipe  kept 
the  ladies'  state-room  comfortable ;  but  most  of 
the  accessible  parts  of  the  ship  were  cold,  dark, 
and  cheerless,  and  bare  of  the  most  ordinary  com- 
forts. 

Some  time  passed,  and  the  turmoil  on  the 
wharf  suddenly  lessened,  then  ceased.  Then  loud 
and  decisive  orders  were  heard  from  the  deck. 
The  steam  sang  its  tremendous  monotone  in  the 
great  pipe,  and  now  and  then  gave  a  pish  of 
impatience  through  a  stop-cock.  The  speak- 
ing-trumpets renewed  their  discord.  "  LET  GO 
THERE!  "  There  was  a  heavy  splash  of  a  haw- 
ser; the  gangway-plank  was  shoved  off;  the  pilot 
touched  the  bell;  the  engine  groaned;  the  great 
paddle-wheels  began  to  turn ;  and  the  "  Lever- 
rier"  was  off.  Slowly  churning  the  half-frozen 
water  and  the  floating  masses  of  ice  and  refuse,  the 
vessel  swung  round  into  the  stream. 

Much  of  this  was  seen  by  Phoabe  and  Miss 
Thorpe  through  the  glazed  port-hole  of  their 
state-room.  Then,  as  the  majestic  vessel  slowly 


262  MAN  PROPOSES. 

moved  on,  a  pert  little  tug-boat  came  alongside, 
puffing  with  importance,  and  bringing  the  end  of 
an  enormous  cable.  When  the  cable  was  fastened, 
and  pulled  taut,  a  superbly-rigged  bark  appeared 
in  tow,  and  thenceforth  followed  the  steamer. 
The  bark  was  loaded  with  live  cattle,  to  furnish 
beef  for  the  Southern  army. 

About  this  time  the  ladies  thought  they  would 
inquire  for  their  friends ;  but  neither  Mr.  Pres- 
cott  nor  Mr.  Amory  could  be  found  on  board. 
Miss  Thorpe  had  the  pass  from  the  government, 
and  she  had  sufficient  money ;  but  the  thought 
of  making  the  voyage  alone,  and  of  arriving  at 
a  military  post  unfriended,  was  appalling.  It  was 
now  Phoebe's  turn  to  be  brave,  and  to  sustain 
the  drooping  spirits  of  •  her  convoy.  They  were 
assured  by  fellow-passengers  that  steamers  sailed 
every  few  days,  and  of  course  the  gentlemen 
would  follow  them  by  the  first  vessel  that  offered. 

The  steamer,  before  many  hours,  was  rolling 
and  struggling  in  the  terrible  winter  sea.  Squalls 
of  snow  darkened  the  air :  every  wave  that  was 
shipped  left  more  and  more  ice,  until  the  vessel 
was  armor-plated.  But  of  this  the  hapless  women 
knew  nothing.  The  violence  of  the  storm  obliged 
them  to  keep  their  berths ;  and  neither  had  a  look 
at  sea  or  sky  until  when,  three  or  four  days  later, 
they  were  running  in  smooth  water,  and  tracing 
out  a  fringe  of  feathery  palmettos  on  the  edge  of 
the  horizon. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  263 


CHAPTER  xxm. 

IT  was  remarkably  imprudent  in  Mr.  Prescott ; 
but  he  yielded  to  the  suggestion  of  Amory  that 
they  should  go  on  shore  to  get  some  newspapers, 
fruit,  cigars,  and  a  few  other  indispensable  arti- 
cles. He  had  put  the  all-important  pass  in  Miss 
Thorpe's  keeping.  The  two  went  up  the  wharf, 
walked  a  square  or  two,  made  their  purchases 
with  what  speed  they  might,  and  then  returned. 
The  gate  of  the  lower  wharf  was  chained,  and  a 
sentinel  stood  by  with  his  musket.  "  No  one 
admitted  without  a  pass."  —  "  But  I  have  a  pass." 
—  "  Show  it."  —  "  It  is  in  the  hands  of  my  friend 
aboard  ship."  —  " The  worse  for  you."  —  "I  can 
get  it,  and  show  you."  —  "No;  for  you  can't  go 
by  here."  -  "  But  I  just  passed  out."  —  "  Well, 
you  had  a  right  to."  —  "But  not  to  go  back?"  — 
"  Not  without  a  pass."  — "  Why  was  the  gate 
open  when  I  went  out,  and  shut  now  ?  "  —  "  Gate 
is  allus  shut  before  steamer  starts."  —  "  Do  you 
say  I  can't  get  aboard  that  vessel ? "  —  "I  say 
so.  That's  what  I'm  here  f$r."  The  wheels  were 
already  revolving.  Amory  and  Prescott  both 
redoubled  their  entreaties  with  the  obdurate  sen- 
tinel, until  he  finally  ordered  them  away,  with  a 


264  MAN  PROPOSES. 

threat  of  arrest.  The  steamer  was  off.  Amory, 
with  wild  eyes,  and  fingers  clawing  at  his  hair, 
was  swearing  like  a  stevedore  [truth  demands 
the  statement]  ;  but  Mr.  Prescott  sat  down  on  a 
bale,  and  sobbed. 

It  was  a  sorrowful  pair  that -went  up  to  the 
Astor  House. 

Luckily  the  next  day  there  was  another  steamer 
in  berth.  Another  pass  was  procured  by  tele- 
graph ;  new  personal  supplies  were  obtained ;  and 
the  impatient  voyagers  embarked. 

The  ship  soon  ran  into  the  same  storm  in  which 
the  "  Leverrier"  had  started.  It  blew  what  sailors 
call  a  fresh  breeze ;  that  is  to  say,  no  human  being 
could  stand  on  deck  without  holding  on  to  some- 
thing. The  sea  precipitated  itself,  came  head  first 
upon  the  deck ;  and  the  water  froze  as  it  fell. 
The  ice  on  the  lower  rigging,  bulwarks,  and  wheel- 
house,  was  nearly  a  foot  thick ;  and  gangs  of  men, 
held  by  ropes  around  their  waists,  were  set  to  cut 
it  off,  because  its  vast  weight  made  the  vessel  top- 
heavy.  Such  was  the  penalty  of  passing  Hatteras 
in  a  north-easter.  Prescott  and  "Amory  had  found 
a  friend  in  office,  and  got  a  comfortable  state- 
room ;  only  the  animals  (horses  and  cows)  on 
deck  were  directly  over  head ;  and  as  often  as  a 
dash  of  the  icy  spray  came  over  the  creatures,  or 
as,  sometimes,  a  ton  of  water  thundered  down 
upon  them,  they  kicked  and  groaned  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  sleep  impossible.  The  waves, 
too,  came  with  a  rush  and  a  roar,  and  at  times 


MAN  PROPOSES.  265 

with  a  series  of  crushing  blows  as  though  the 
ship's  ribs  were  struck  by  some  gigantic  hammer ; 
then  the  vessel  would  sway  and  twist  and  creak 
like  a  willow  basket.  After  the  stormy  point  was 
passed,  though  the  wind  continued  cold,  the  water 
was  about  sixty  degrees ;  and  a  light  mist  rose 
from  the  waves,  so  that  their  curling,  whitening 
edges  seemed  to  smoke. 

Afterwards  came  two  delightful  days,  with  clear 
skies,  bland  airs,  and  a  distant  line  of  gleaming 
white  sand  on  the  starboard.  Still  southward  they 
went  on  an  even  keel,  with  glimpses  of  sandy 
shore,  and  tufts  of  palmetto,  in  the  golden  west. 
How  beautiful  every  thing  looked  to  eyes  that  had 
seen  only  angry  waves  so  long ! 

Soon  the  unmistakable  signs  of  a  military  post 
appeared.  Long,  low  buildings  of  immense  extent 
were  seen;  and  piers  jutted  into  the  harbor,  at 
which  were  lying  hundreds  of  vessels  of  all  classes, 
from  sutler's  schooners  up  to  ocean  steamers  and 
men-of-war.  In  the  rear  were  fortifications ;  and 
flags,  mere  glancing  specks  of  red  and  white,  float- 
ed above. 

It  was  Sunday;  and  the  pier  was  crowded  with 
an  eighth  of  a  mile  of  soldiers,  laborers,  and  team- 
sters. Making  their  way  through  the  throng  with 
some  difficulty,  our  friends  traversed  the  long  pier, 
and  across  the  dazzling  white  sand  (up  to  the 
ankles  at  every  step),  to  the  office  of  the  provost- 
marshal. 

They  had  sought  for  information  on  board  their 


266  MAN  PROPOSES. 

vessel  in  vain :  the  Ancient  Mariner  might  just 
as  well  have  made  the  same  inquiries  of  his 
spectre  crew.  Up  to  this  moment,  the  voyagers 
had  not  the  least  idea  where  they  should  find 
Col.  Prescott,  nor  upon  what  service  he  was 
bound.  Not  a  soldier  nor  officer  on  the  wharf 
would  answer  any  sort  of  a  question  with  regard 
to  the  location  of  regiments  or  commanders. 
There  was  wisdom  and  necessity  in  this ;  but  our 
two  civilians  did  not  then  know  that  publicity 
had  been  such  a  damage  to  the  government  as  to 
make  silence  imperative. 

Their  passes  were  vised,  and  they  went  to  the 
only  hotel.  Its  claims  to  distinction  lay  in  the 
fact  that  the  price  was  five  dollars  a  day,  and  that 
"  native  wine  "  (so  called,  but  in  fact  a  very  fair 
champagne  without  any  label)  could  be  obtained 
at  four  dollars  a  bottle.  The  lodging-rooms  were 
a  series  of  boxes  much  like  those  provided  for 
cattle  in  ocean  steamers,  and  the  beds,  — 

Infandum!  .  .  .  jubes  renovare  dolorem. 

At  the  table  bets  were  daily  made,  so  it  was 
said,  as  to  whether  the  particular  piece  of  flesh 
offered  for  mastication  was  beef,  pork,  or  mutton. 
As  for  poultry  and  eggs,  not  a  hen  had  been 
heard  to  cackle  at  the  island  for  a  year.  Wild 
fowl  were  plenty,  but  no  one  was  allowed  to  fire 
a  gun.  The  tin  can  was  the  only  horn  of  plenty. 
To  return  to  our  travellers.  Miss  Thorpe  and 
Phrebe  were  not  at  the  hotel.  The  inference  was, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  267 


that  they  must  have  gone  to  Beaufort,  where  they 
would  have  better  accommodations,  and  society  of 
their  own  sex.  The  steamer  for  Beaufort  was  to 
sail  in  a  few  hours ;  and  Mr.  Prescott  and  Amory, 
having  had  their  passes  visSd  by  the  quartermaster 
at  the  pier,  obtained  permission  to  go. 

They  spent  the  few  hours  of  leisure  on  the  long 
pier,  preferring  to  observe  that  scene  of  activity 
than  to  lounge  about  the  hotel.  They  soon 
espied  a  tall  and  familiar  form  in  a  colonel's  uni- 
form. Neither  of  them  could  remember  his  name 
or  belongings,  but  Amory  felt  sure  he  had  seen 
him  in  a  pulpit.  Mr.  Prescott  accosted  the  offi- 
cer ;  and,  receiving  a  civil  and  even  friendly  reply, 
the  conversation  was  continued.  The  officer  was 
stationed  near  Beaufort,  and,  by  singular  good- 
fortune,  had  met  Miss  Thorpe  and  Phoebe  on  their 
arrival,  —  the  former  being  an  old  friend  and 
fellow-member  of  the  Plato  Club,  —  and  had 
obtained  for  them  a  temporary  home  with  some 
noble  women  at  the  well-known  Smith  planta- 
tion. This  was  an  inexpressible  relief. 

Now  came  up  the  matter  of  Roderick.  The 
colonel  was  discreet :  the  movements  of  the  army 
were  not  to  be  discussed,  not  even  the  where- 
abouts of  an  officer.  Events  were  in  the  air. 
The  colonel  parleyed,  admitted  that  Roderick 
had  been  wounded,  but  said  he  was  now  on  duty, 
and  in  an  important  position.  This  extreme  cau- 
tion was  new  to  Mr.  Prescott ;  and  his  curiosity, 
not  to  say  his  anxiety,  was  momently  on  the 
increase. 


268  MAN  PROPOSES. 

At  length  the  colonel  said,  in  a  string  of  vague 
but  suggestive  sentences,  that  a  despatch  steamer 
was  going  at  once  to  Jacksonville.  Pie  had  no 
advice  to  offer,  no  permission  to  give.  Mr.  Pres- 
cott  must  decide  for  himself.  The  ladies  were 
well  cared  for,  and  with  genial  companions :  so 
much  was  certain.  Mr.  Prescott  need  have  no 
fears  about  their  safety  and  comforts.  If  he 
wished  to  see  his  son,  the  colonel,  why,  the  de- 
spatch steamer  would  take  him  to  the  St.  John 
in  a  few  hours ;  and  then  Mr.  Prescott  would 
learn  more  than  the  colonel  was  now  at  liberty 
to  communicate,  and  he  would  learn  what  he 
could  not  learn  at  the  present  station.  Probably 
he  could  return  in  a  few  days ;  but  a  pass  must 
be  got  from  Gen.  Gillmore,  the  fort-crusher. 

If  Col.  Hunt  had  known  what  was  going  to 
happen,  he  would  have  hesitated  before  advising 
two  peaceable  non-combatants  to  go  to  Jackson- 
ville. But  he  had  said  just  enough  to  pique 
curiosity  to  the  utmost;  and  Mr.  Prescott,  hav- 
ing heard  how  delightfully  the  ladies  were  situat- 
ed, and  finding  that  he  could  go  by  boat  so 
quickly,  and  probably  could  return  at  any  time, 
proposed  to  Amory  to  accompany  him.  The  plan 
was  not  so  attractive  to  the  young  man,  but  he 
consented  cheerfully.  Col.  Hunt  succeeded  in 
getting  passes  in  the  face  of  strong  opposition. 

The  steamer  that  took  our  travellers  from  Port 
Royal  to  the  coast  of  Florida  seemed  to  be  a  thing 
of  mystery.  Its  captain  was  a  severe-looking  per- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  269 

son,  who  scowled  on  the  first  officer,  who  scowled 
on  the  second,  who  transmitted  the  scowl  to  the 
third,  and  so  on  down.  What  the  vessel  was 
going  for,  what  had  happened  or  was  going  to 
happen,  was  beyond  any  one's  knowledge.  There 
was  a  singular  absence  of  conveniences  on  board, 
except  in  the  matter  of  implements  of  war. 

The  weather  continued  fine.  After  a  very 
swift  passage,  the  steamer  went  at  half-speed,  and 
presently  a  sound  was  heard  like  the  roaring  of 
surf.  All  rushed  on  deck  to  behold  the  entrance 
of  St.  John's  River.  There  was  a  long  line  of 
breakers  on  the  bar  stretching  north-east,  a  de- 
serted lighthouse  on  the  left  bank,  and,  just  inside, 
a  field  of  tumultuous  eddies,  formed  by  the  rising 
tide  in  its  struggles  with  the  current  of  the  river. 

When  the  steamer  had  passed  the  tide-rips,  the 
stillness  of  death  brooded  over  the  broad  and 
sluggish  stream.  Trees  hung  with  moss  lined  the 
banks ;  and  withered  reeds  leaned  in  the  black 
ooze  by  the  shore.  Here  and  there  stood  a 
planter's  house  or  a  negro's  cabin,  and  around 
them  a  scarcely  perceptible  bloom  showed  the  com- 
ing of  early  spring  to  the  peach-trees ;  but  not  a 
human  being  was  to  be  seen,  white  or  black. 
The  steamer  moved  cautiously  on.  Its  two  Par- 
rott  guns  were  shotted  and  manned,  and  in  the 
place  of  the  steamer's  captain  the  senior  military 
officer  gave  the  noiseless  orders  as  she  steamed  up 
the  stream.  Not  a  word  was  spoken,  but  even 
the  silence  was  appalling. 


270  MAN  PROPOSES. 

The  reason  of  all  this  was  soon  apparent.  The 
town  of  Jacksonville,  or  what  remained  of  it, 
came  into  view  ;  and  there  at  the  wharf  our  trav- 
ellers saw  a  fleet  of  transport-steamers,  and  in  the 
stream  a  gunboat  commanding  the  approaches. 
The  town  had  a  wofully  battered  look.  Chimneys 
had  been  overturned,  roofs  burned,  gardens  tram- 
pled, and  fences  demolished,  mostly  by  the  South- 
ern troops  on  their  retreat. 

This  was  war.  It  was  as  far  from  a  holiday 
excursion  as  possible.  Now  came  on  the  first  of 
the  waves  of  that  "  sea  of  troubles  "  with  which 
our  civilians  were  to  contend.  There  were  no 
residents,  except  a  few  troops,  servants,  and  strag- 
glers. It  was  an  armed  camp  under  rigid  discipline. 
They  showed  their  passports  to  a  beardless  imper- 
tinence in  shoulder-straps,  who  demanded  names 
and  business,  and  who  only  allowed  them  to  go 
ashore  after  an  exciting  and  not  very  courteous 
examination  of  nearly  fifteen  minutes.  It  was 
incredible  to  officers  in  the  service  that  any  man 
would  actually  come  to  the  front,  unless  he  were 
a  renegade,  a  spy,  or  a  prospective  sutler.  The 
story  would  have  been  called  thin,  if  that  slang 
had  then  existed.  So  Mr.  Prescott  answered 
again  and  again  why  he  had  started,  who  came 
with  him,  and  where  he  had  left  his  company. 
And  the  officer  then  condescended  to  inform  him 
that  the  army  had  come  to  Florida  "  on  business  ;  " 
that  there  would  be  a  movement  soon,  naturally, 
but  when  or  where  he  could  not  say.  There 


MAN  PROPOSES.  271 

might  be  a  chance  to  return  to  Port  Royal  soon, 
or  there  might  not.  They  could  live  on  shore, 
under  surveillance,  of  course,  if  they  could  find  a 
mess  that  would  admit  strangers ;  or  they  might 
live  on  the  steamer  by  agreeing  with  the  commis- 
sary's deputy.  If  the  army  should  move,  there 
might  be  a  few  companies  left  to  protect  the  place, 
or  there  might  not.  If  not,  they  (our  travellers) 
might  have  their  choice,  —  to  remain  on  the 
steamer  with  a  chance  of  being  sent  back  to  New 
York,  or  to  follow  the  army  on  foot  in  its  forced 
marches  inland. 

During  the  interview  briefly  sketched,  Amory 
was  inflamed  with  wrath  visibly.  His  cheeks 
were  scarlet,  and  his  eyes  glaring.  But  Mr.  Pres- 
cott,  though  fully  as  angry,  gave  his  arm  a  gripe, 
and  insisted  on  silence. 

"  Lieutenant,"  said  our  elder  traveller  gravely, 
"  as  you  have  viseed  our  passports,  I  believe  we 
have  a  right  to  go  on  shore.  For  your  informa- 
tion as  to  how  and  where  we  can  live,  and  for 
your  warnings  in  regard  to  the  future,  we  are 
deeply  grateful.  We  are  properly  sorry  we  came, 
but  that  cannot  be  helped  now.  We  will  endeav- 
or to  bestow  ourselves  where  we  shall  burden  no 
one,  nor  intrude  in  any  exclusive  mess";  and  for 
that  purpose  we  shall  try  to  see  your  superior  offi- 
cer. He  will  be  glad  to  hear,  doubtless,  with 
what  zeal  you  use  the  authority  in  which  you  are 
clothed,  also  with  what  delicate  and  considerate 
kindness  you  have  cheered  and  aided  us." 


272  MAN  PROPOSES. 

The  lieutenant,  if  he  still  lives,  probably  re- 
members the  tingling  emphasis,  and  the  signs  of 
the  vehement  emotion  that  would  have  surged  up 
like  lava,  if  an  enforced,  icy  courtesy  had  not 
covered  the  hidden  fire. 

The  three  formed  a  striking  group.  The  strut- 
ting officer  had  half  a  mind  to  be  angry  and  re- 
sentful ;  yet  he  was  awed  involuntarily  by  the 
steady  gaze  of  Mr.  Prescott,  and  perhaps  was  half 
afraid  that  it  was  the  Secretary  of  War  or  some 
senator  whom  he  had  been  bullying.  Amory 
was  swollen,  bulbous,  and  high-shouldered.  His 
pulpy  lips  had  hardened  to  sealing-wax.  For  all 
his  supposed  softness  and  poetic  sensibility,  he 
was  as  pugnacious  a  fellow  as  one  often  meets. 
He  drew  deep,  wheezy  breaths  while  the  senior 
was  returning  thanks,  and  watched  the  color 
come  and  go  in  the  young  cock's  face.  Mr.  Pres- 
cott, with  his  resolute  countenance  and  his  large 
and  luminous  eyes,  looked  the  master  of  the  situ- 
ation, as  he  was.  Touching  their  hats  to  the 
officer  with  an  excessive  politeness,  they  walked 
up  the  river-bank. 

Only  a  small  regiment  of  colored  troops  was 
found  at  the  town.  The  expedition  was  already 
in  motion. 

These  were  facts  that  our  friends  ascertained 
a  little  later.  On  their  way  they  were  repeatedly 
stopped  by  the  guard ;  and  at  last,  approaching  a 
house  that  retained  some  vestiges  of  its  former 
credit,  they  were  desired  to  enter,  and  show  their 
papers  to  the  provost-marshal. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  273 

The  provost  was  represented  by  a  deputy  ;  and 
our  travellers  were  asked  anew  all  the  questions 
they  had  answered  at  the  wharf,  and  a  hundred 
more  besides.  This  was  a  ruddy,  good-natured 
fellow,  however,  and  in  the  end  he  gave  some 
hints  of  the  reasons  why  strangers  were  so  sharply 
questioned  and  watched.  In  justice  to  the  much- 
tried  officers,  it  must  be  said  that  civilians  were 
out  of  place  "  at  the  front." 

The  prospects  of  our  travellers  indeed  appeared 
dubious.  The  rebel  general  Finnegan  was  known 
as  a  wily  and  restless  enemy.  If  he  could  elude 
the  vigilance  of  Seymour,  he  might  turn  and  anni- 
hilate the  few  troops  in  Jacksonville,  destroy  the 
transport-steamers,  or  even  capture  the  gunboat. 
The  freedom  of  our  civilians,  and  their  hope  of 
returning  to  Port  Royal,  appeared  to  hang  on  the 
success  of  the  expedition ;  and  it  was  impossible 
to  say  whether  they  would  be  in  greater  personal 
danger  on  their  steamer,  in  the  town,  or  with  the 
rear  guard  of  the  army  in  pursuit  of  Finnegan. 

Soon  the  provost-marshal  in  person  appeared. 
Amory  gave  one  look  at  him,  and  sprang  forward 
to  seize  the  hand  of  an  old  and  intimate  friend. 
It  was  a  hearty,  generous  meeting  on  both  sides. 
Red  tape  was  forgotten :  passports  were  useless 
scrawls.  The  party  withdrew  to  an  inner  room, 
where  army  hospitalities  were  duly  tendered,  and 
the  "  assurances "  exchanged  over  tin  dippers 
(gills  only)  of  the  regulation  whiskey  known  as 


274  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"commissary  [D]."     It  was  not  nectar,  but   was 
the  best  the  gallant  provost  had  to  offer. 

Their  immediate  wants  being  provided  for,  the 
baggage  was  brought  ashore,  and  a  "  shake-down  " 
was  spread  in  a  chamber  that  was  fragrant  with 
yellow  jessamine  flowers  peeping  in  through  open 
windows ;  and  then  the  evening  passed  in  cheer- 
ful talk,  and  with  the  incense  of  reed-stemmed 
Powhatan  pipes. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  275 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MR.  PEESCOTT  slept  as  soundly  on  the  hard  pal- 
let as  if  he  had  been  accustomed  to  it ;  but  while 
he  was  dreaming  of  seeing  Phrebe  perpetually  near, 
yet  always  eluding  him,  he  suddenly  woke.  The 
provost-marshal  was  at  his  bedside,  also  an  orderly 
with  a  lantern.  A  small  party  with  letters  and 
orders  was  going  forward  at  once.  It  was  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  There  was  an  opportu- 
nity, if  Mr.  Prescott  wished,  to  accompany  the 
party.  Due  emphasis  was  laid  upon  Mr.  Pres- 
cott's  wish;  the  means  of  conveyance  was  an 
ambulance.  Amory  was  already  dressed,  and  held 
his  hand  bag.  Mr.  Prescott  brushed  the  sleep 
from  his  eyes,  hurriedly  laved  them  in  cool  water, 
put  on  his  surtout,  and  followed  the  party. 

The  troops  moved  promptly  and  without  sound, 
except  from  the  hoofs  of  horses  and  the  rumbling 
of  wheels.  Vedettes  preceded,  and  scoured  the 
woods  on  either  hand,  while  the  small  column 
steadily  followed.  All  was  still.  Not  a  human 
being  was  seen. 

Late  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day  the  rear  of 
the  main  body  of  the  advancing  forces  was 
reached.  For  the  first  time  Mfi  Prescott  and 


276  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Amory  comprehended  their  position.  They  were 
following  a  small  army  of  less  than  six  thousand 
men  —  four  thousand  four  hundred  actual  comba- 
tants—  into  the  heart  of  Florida,  advancing  to 
meet  an  unknown  enemy  posted  no  one  knew 
where,  and,  being  perfectly  acquainted  with  the 
country,  ready  to  take  prompt  advantage  of  any 
error  on  the  part  of  the  invaders. 

Mr.  Prescott  was  struck  with  the  grim  and  fixed 
expression  of  countenance  of  both  officers  and 
men.  It  was  as  far  as  possible  from  a  holiday 
parade.  Officers  were  vigorous  and  curt:  the 
men  were  alert  and  resolute.  When  the  column 
encamped  at  St.  Mary's  Ford,  and  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  night-watch  were  made,  our  friends, 
under  guidance  of  the  friendly  sergeant,  went 
through  the  darkness  to  visit  Col.  Prescott.  An 
orderly  lifted  the  fold  of  the  tent;  and  there,  in  a 
colonel's  uniform,  on  his  knees  in  prayer,  was 
Robert  Prescott. 

Both  stepped  back,  and  raised  their  hats,  their 
surprise  and  reverence  mingling  in  an  overpower- 
ing emotion,  until  the  preacher-colonel  rose. 

How  they  rushed  together !  What  embraces 
and  hand-shakings !  what  exclamations  of  delight ! 
"  My  dear  Robert,"  at  length  Mr.  Prescott  found 
breath  to  say,  "  and  so  this  is  the  field  ?  Not  India 
or  Africa,  but  your  own  land!  God  in  heaven 
bless  you !  How  could  I  doubt  my  brother's  son  ? 
We  have  a  land  worth  fighting  for,  and  what 
could  be  nobler  than  to  die  for  her  !  Oh  the  old 


MAN  PROPOSES.  277 

blood  tells!  My  grandfather  spent  that  dreadful 
winter  at  Valley  Forge.  Your  grandfather  was 
out  in  the  war  of  1812.  Now  you  are  here ! 
Whenever  the  country  needs  her  sons,  there  will 
always  be  a  Prescott  in  arms.  But  tell  us,  how 
did  you  come  here  ?  " 

"I  know,"  said  Col.  Robert  modestly,  "that  this 
is  strange  for  a  man  of  my  chosen  profession ;  but 
it  was  no  fickleness  that  led  me  to  volunteer. 
When  I  came  to  reflect  upon  it,  as  I  was  about 
leaving  Boston,  the  peril  of  the  country  was 
immediate,  and  my  first  duty  was  to  defend  her. 
If  this  country  were  to  go  down,  the  hope  of  lib- 
erty and  Christianity  everywhere  would  be  dark- 
ened. I  went  to  Albany,  and  offered  my  services. 
What  moved  the  governor  to  trust  me,  a  stranger, 
a  student  without  military  training,  I  can't  say ; 
but  he  gave  me  a  second  lieutenant's  commission 
in  a  regiment  just  setting  out.  We  have  been  in 
constant  service  ;  and  so  many  men  have  been 
killed  and  disabled  and  captured,  that  the  force  is 
wholly  changed.  The  present  officers  are  mostly 
new  men,  risen  from  the  ranks.  I  am  to-day  the 
senior.  The  ordinary  experience  of  years  has 
been  crowded  into  months.  I  have  been  taken 
prisoner,  and  have  escaped.  I  have  been  two  or 
three  times  hit,  just  grazed  by  bullets,  but  have 
not  had  a  serious  wound.  The  severest  ordeal  I 
have  had  was  in  escaping  by  way  of  the  Edisto 
River  to  the  sea,  when  I  lay  hid  in  tree-tops  by 
day,  and  paddled  on  a  log  by  night,  when  I  lived 


278  MAN  PROPOSES. 

on  a  sweet-potato  a  day,  raw  or  roasted  as  it  might 
happen,  given  me  by  some  skulking  negro." 

Light  was  breaking  in  upon  Mr.  Prescott's  mind. 
He  began  to  understand  the  reason  for  the  con- 
flicting reports.  There  were  two  Col.  Prescotts. 

"  And  where  is  Roderick  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Prescott 
eagerly. 

"  Close  at  hand.     I  will  send  for  him." 

While  the  orderly  went  to  the  camp  of  the 
negro  regiment,  Mr.  Prescott  gave  a  rapid  ac- 
count of  the  journey.  Robert's  surprise  was  now 
redoubled.  That  Phoebe  should  have  chosen  to 
come  to  the  seat  of  war,  and  should  have  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  the  fragile  and  shrinking  Miss 
Thorpe  as  her  companion,  was  beyond  his  compre- 
hension. His  cheeks  colored  with  pleasure ;  and 
then  he  thought  of  a  leave  of  absence  and  the 
delight  of  meeting  the  only  woman  he  had  ever 
loved.  Then  the  imminent  struggle  came  to 
mind,  and  he  shuddered  to  think  what  fatal  mis- 
chances might  come  between  him  and  his  hopes. 
Then,  too,  he  wondered  if  Roderick  had  not  been 
the  attraction.  Unless  Phoebe  had  some  hidden 
source  of  information  as  to  himself — could  this 
be  possible?  —  she  must  have  been  impelled  by 
curiosity,  or  sympathy  for  the  rival. 

His  meditations  were  cut  short  by  the  arrival 
of  Col.  Roderick.  Behold  a  young  man  with 
closely  cropped  hair,  a  thin  and  brown  face,  so 
brown  that  his  blue  eyes  showed  like  turquoises 
in  leather,  with  a  sharp  and  rather  disagreeable, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  279 

dare-devil  expression,  and  with  a  lithe  movement 
of  body  like  that  of  a  trained  athlete.  The  silken 
dandy  had  been  thoroughly  broken  in  and  hardened 
to  his  work. 

The  greetings  were  hearty,  and  the  surprise  on 
Roderick's  part,  perhaps,  even  greater  than  with 
Robert.  That  his  step-father  and  Amory,  and  the 
ladies,  should  come  to  the  seat  of  war  through  so 
much  of  difficulty  and  danger  was  beyond  belief. 
First  he  inquired  affectionately  with  regard  to  his 
mother,  and  then  paused. 

The  two  colonels  looked  at  each  other  mean- 
ingly, and  then  Robert  slowly  spoke. 

"  I  suppose  you  didn't  come  over  here  without 
knowing  that  you  come  straight  into  danger?" 

"  Well,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Prescott.  "  We  knew 
fighting  was  going  on." 

"  But  we  are  liable  to  be  attacked  any  moment. 
We  are  prepared  for  that  risk,  —  Roderick  and  I, 
—  but  you  must  be  cared  for.  koderick  and  I  will 
see  that  you  have  quarters  with  the  surgeons  and 
commissaries  in  the  rear." 

"  Then  you  expect  a  battle  ?  " 

"I  only  know  we  are  marching  into  an  un- 
known country,  and  that  we  have  one  of  the  craf- 
tiest of  foes  watching  our  movements.  Finnegan, 
the  rebel  leader,  they  say,  was  once  a  private  in 
the  regular  army  under  Seymour,  and  he  vows  he 
will  beat  his  old  captain.  We  may  fall  into  an 
ambuscade  like  Braddock,  or  we  may  sweep  across 
the  country  to  the  gulf;  but  I  think  we  shall 
have  hot  work  within  twenty-four  hours." 


280  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Sure  of  that !  "  said  Roderick. 

Amory  looked  admiringly  upon  the  two  heroes, 
and  began  actually  to  regret  he  had  not  volun- 
teered. His  ideas  were  rising  to  the  high  level ; 
and  he  burned  for  leisure,  a  table,  pen,  ink,  and 
paper,  that  he  might  record  the  glorious  thrills  he 
felt,  before  their  impression  faded.  Mary  should 
read  a  description  of  this  scene  in  the  tented  field 
the  night  before  battle. 

"  It  is  surmised,"  said  Robert  cautiously,  "  that 
Seymour  is  advancing  on  his  own  responsibility, 
and  contrary  to  Gillmore's  orders.  If  he  succeeds, 
the  fault  will  be  atoned  for:  if  he  fails,  he  will 
have  a  double  load  to  bear." 

"  But  don't  let  us  talk  politics,"  said  Roderick. 
"  Here  are  we  four.  Not  far  away  are  two  women. 
What  new  throw  of  the  dice  may  happen  to-mor- 
row, who  can  say?  Now,  let  us  talk  practical 
sense,  just  as  if  to-morrow  was  going  to  "  —  He 
looked  at  his  step-father,  checked  himself,  and 
then  went  on  more  cheerily,  — 

"  Now,  here  is  my  parson,  my  pet  preacher. 
You  can't  be  more  surprised  to  find  him  here  than 
I  was.  We  have  only  met  within  three  months. 
Before  that,  I  think  I  hated  him  about  as  thor- 
oughly as  a  man  could  hate  another.  *  I  didn't 
know  him." 

Robert  listened  with  a  half-amused  expression, 
and  wondered  if  "  Commissary  [D]  "  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  this  frankness. 

"  I've  been  thinking  I  ought  to  speak,"  contin- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  281 

ued  Roderick.  "Most  men  think  they  are  good 
enough  for  any  woman ;  but  I  am  an  exception. 
Now  this  parson-colonel  here  thinks  he  keeps  his 
secret ;  but  it  is  hidden  like  the  red-bordered  hand- 
kerchief peeping  out  of  a  swell's  breast-pocket. 
There  are  about  three  things  this  singular  man 
worships,  —  God,  his  country,  and  a  certain  young 
lady.  Perhaps  we  should  reverse  the  order ;  but 
let  it  stand." 

Mr.  Prescott  thought  Roderick  unsettled  in 
mind,  perhaps  by  premonitions  of  the  morrow, 
perhaps  by  the  thoughts  of  home  which  had  been 
awakened  by  this  visit.  He  endeavored  to  turn 
the  conversation. 

"  Your  mother  has  pleasant  news  from  England. 
She  thinks  of  making  her  brother  a  visit  next 
season,  or  as  soon  as  you  can  go  with  us." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  '  when  this  cruel  war  is  over,'  of  course 
we  will  go.  I  hope  I'll  get  a  star  or  two  on  my 
shoulders  first.  I  understand  the  copper  stock 
has  come  up  booming.  Mother  must  be  happy 
now.  And  how  does  Gibbs  like  it?" 

"  Your  mother  can  bear  a  great  deal  of  prosper- 
ity, and  I  am  glad  she  has  her  share  of  it.  Gibbs, 
I  think,  is  really  cut.  He  looks  at  me  as  if  I  had 
been  his  enemy." 

"That  is  according  to  the  old  poetical  adage, 
said  Robert :  — 

" '  Forgiveness  to  the  injured  does  belong ; 

But  they  ne'er  pardon  who  have  done  the  wrong.'  " 


282  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Sometimes  they  cZo,"  said  Roderick.  "  I  was  in 
the  wrong  and  did  the  wrong.  I  forgive.  This 
Col.  Robert  here,  father,  is  the  best  man  (oh !  I 
go  for  religion  after  this) ;  he  has  saved  my  life, 
and  much  more  than  that.  —  Keep  quiet,  will  you, 
colonel  ?  I  have  something  to  say  in  view  of  cer- 
tain contingencies." 

"  Come,  Roderick,"  said  his  step-father,  "  don't 
distress  yourself.  The  rebels  haven't  a  shot  that 
is  to  hit  you." 

"  Well,  maybe  so ;  but  they've  hit  me  some 
half-dozen  times  before  now.  But  you  don't 
know  all  I  have  been  thinking  of  —  do  they,  colo- 
nel?" 

"Scarcely.     But  you  are  in  an  odd  humor." 

"  Let  me  have  my  way.  I  see  that  my  friend 
goes  in  such  a  bee-line  in  regard  to  his  affection, 
that  he  could  die  for  a  man, — or  a  woman.  And 
I  have  asked  myself,  '  Now  could  you,  would  you, 
Roderick,  die  for  any  woman  ? '  And,  when  I 
reflect  upon  it,  I  find  the  everlasting  truth  is,  I 
wouldn't :  besides,  mother  has  written  to  me  about 
Phoabe's  visions.  They  fit  this  man's  case  better 
than  mine.  He  has  escaped  to  the  sea.  His  for- 
tune has  interested  her.  Now,  here  we  are  in  this 
treacherous  country,  and  we  don't  know  —  well, 
the  fact  is,  if  a  man  has  no  property  to  dispose 
of,  he  ought  to  make  a  will  and  testament  for 
something.  And  things  have  been  a  little  mixed. 
And  while  the  young  lady  is  splendid,  and  all  that, 
I  believe  she  really  ought  to  love  —  or  might  love 


MAN  PROPOSES.  283 

—  this  solemn,  but  awfully  good  fellow.  Am  I 
to  be  the  selfish,  naughty  boy  ?  No,  111  go  away 
and  sulk ;  or  rather  I'll  beat  the  bush  for  new 
game.  So  here,  Robert  Prescott,  rise  up,  give  me 
your  hand  !  This  is  a  nuncupative  will  (I  think 
that's  the  phrase).  I  read  law  once,  —  about  two 
months.  You  know  what  I  would  say.  Go  ahead. 
I'm  not  in  your  way." 

How  much  of  this  strange  jumble  was  due  to 
gratitude,  how  much  to  a  fickle  nature,  how 
much  to  a  flaunting  generosity,  and  how  much  to 
the  lingering  fumes  of  "  Commissary  [D],"  can 
hardly  be  told.  Were  the  beautiful  Phoebe  present, 
or  within  reach,  it  would  never  have  been  uttered. 
For  Roderick,  as  the  reader  has  seen,  was  much 
under  the  influence  of  the  moment ;  and  now,  in 
camp,  with  certain  grateful  impulses  in  mind,  and 
some  lugubrious  prospects  ahead,  he  could  be 
heroic  in  self-denial.  But  the  speech  lifted  a  load 
off  the  mind  of  his  rival,  and  caused  his  step- 
father and  Amory  not  a  little  surprise. 

Robert  simply  said,  "  I  appreciate  your  intended 
kindness.  But  it  is  not  for  us  to  dispose  of  the 
young  lady.  She  is  to  decide  the  momentous 
question  for  herself."  Mr.  Prescott  gravely  as- 
sented to  Robert's  remark,  and  added  that  such 
a  matter  should  be  deferred  to  a  more  fitting  sea- 
son. Many  subjects  came  up,  —  the  departure  of 
Belvedere,  the  prayer-book,  and  the  probability 
of  Phoebe's  relationship  to  the  Mannings.  Amory 
came  in  for  his  share  of  credit  in  discovering  the 


284  -MAN  PROPOSES. 

rich  deposits  of  copper,  and  related  his  experi- 
ences. It  seemed  that  the  young  colonels  could 
never  be  satisfied  with  asking  questions  about  the 
people  they  had  known.  The  current  of  talk  ran 
freely  ;  and  probably  in  all  the  field  there  were 
not  four  men  whose  hearts  were  so  knit  together, 
so  thoroughly  in  sympathy,  so  prepared  to  meet 
the  inevitable  for  themselves,  and  so  eager  to  aid 
each  other. 

The  hour  was  late.  All  were  in  need  of  sleep. 
With  the  exchange  of  fervent  good-nights,  good 
wishes,  and  sweet  messages,  they  separated,  and 
Mr.  Prescott  and  Amory  were  conducted  to  the 
tent  where  they  were  to  lie  down ;  but  of  actual 
sleep  they  had  little.  The  situation  was  novel, 
the  events  of  the  day  had  been  exciting,  and  the 
future  was  too  full  of  contingencies  to  allow  their 
minds  to  rest. 

Amory  looked  out  at  the  stars  on  the  northern 
part  of  the  horizon,  and  wondered  if  Mary  Pres- 
cott could  be  looking  at  them  too.  Mr.  Prescott 
closed  his  eyes,  but  could  not  still  the  pounding 
of  his  heart  and  the  answering  throbs  in  his 
brain. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  285 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  events  of  this  chapter  belong  to  history. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  historic  Muse  will  in 
due  time  bestir  herself  to  gather  and  put  them  in 
order.  The  heroes  who  acted  their  parts  in  the 
momentous  scene  are  soon  to  pass  away.  The 
best  accounts  thus  far  published  are  in  news- 
papers ;  and  they  are  inadequate,  often  conflict- 
ing, and  perhaps  partial.  They  are  yet  to  be 
compared,  sifted^  ^and  harmonized.  Compared 
with  battles  like  those  of  Gettysburg,  Antietam, 
and  the  Wilderness,  this  action  in  Florida  appears 
very  small ;  yet  to  each  man  who  faced  the  foe, 
the  ordeal  was  as  terrible,  and  the  stake  as  great, 
as  when  the  line  of  fire  was  measured  by  miles. 

As  our  friends  Prescott  and  Amory  were  far 
in  the  rear,  we  shall  endeavor  by  and  by  to  look 
at  the  battle  with  the  eyes  of  some,  still  living, 
who  were  among  the  prominent  actors. 

The  camp  was  in  motion  at  an  early  hour.  Ra- 
tions had  been  served,  and  animals  fed,  and  the 
forces  began  to  move  in  three  lines,  parallel  with  a 
railroad-track,  across  a  level  country.  The  cavalry 
started  half  an  hour  in  advance.  Col.  Robert's 
regiment  was  near  the  centre  of  the  little  army, 


286  MAN  PROPOSES. 

and  Col.  Roderick's  in  the  rear.  Mr.  Prescott 
and  Mr.  Amory  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 
members  of  the  Commissions,  those  Good  Samari- 
tans whose  generous  efforts  did  so  much  to  alle- 
viate the  sufferings  of  the  wounded  in  battle,  and 
who  have  given  a  far  higher  than  any  military 
renown  to  the  American  name.  These  camp-fol- 
lowers, so  unlike  the  dregs  of  armies  of  other 
days,  rode  in  ambulances  and  walked  by  turns. 
But  one  short  halt  was  called  during  the  morn- 
ing. About  noon,  while  the  troops  were  resting 
and  taking  a  hurried  meal,  there  was  heard  the 
solid  thunder  of  brass  field-pieces,  and  then  the 
distant,  clattering  sound  of  musketry.  The  troops 
were  urged  forward  with  all  speed;  yet,  as  the 
regiments  were  generally  a  mile  apart,  it  was 
some  hours  before  the  last  came  into  the  action. 

The  brigade  of  cavalry  was  very  small  in  num- 
bers, but  composed  of  veteran  troops,  and  was 
cDmmanded  by  Col.  Guy  V.  Henry  of  the  Forti- 
eth Massachusetts  Regiment  of  Mounted  Infantry. 
Major  Stevens  of  the  First  Battalion  of  Massachu- 
setts Cavalry  led  the  advance.  The  skirmishers 
were  under  Capt.  W.  A.  Smith  of  the  Fortieth, 
whose  company  was  the  first  to  open  fire,  and  the 
last  to  leave  the  field.  The  behavior  of  the  cavalry 
was  worthy  of  the  highest  praise  throughout  the 
day.  They  were  eating  their  hard-bread,  and  feed- 
ing their  horses  when  they  were  fired  upon  by  a 
company  of  mounted  skirmishers.  The  fire  was 
returned,  and  our  cavalry  pressed  forward,  driv- 


MAN  PROPOSES.  287 

ing  back  the  enemy  for  nearly  two  miles  to  the 
place  where  the  railroad  crosses  the  sand  road, 
and  where  two  or  three  poor  houses  form  what 
is  called  Olustee.  It  was  at  this  crossing  that 
the  trap  had  been  set ;  and  the  company  of  rebel 
cavalry  had  been  sent  forward  to  skirmish  and  to 
retreat,  with  a  view  of  drawing  our  regiments, 
one  after  another,  under  the  fire  of  their  whole 
line. 

The  forces  under  Gen.  Finnegan,  from  nine 
thousand  to  twelve  thousand  in  number,  were 
disposed  on  each  side  of  the  railroad-track  in  an 
eccentric  curve,  one  wing  resting  upon  the  shore 
of  "a  pond,  while  the  other  stretched  around,  under 
cover  of  bushes,  to  a  heavily-wooded  cypress 
swamp.  Earthworks  were  thrown  up  on  the 
exposed  parts  of  the  line,  and  batteries  were 
planted  to  sweep  the  roads.  Perfectly  sheltered 
from  musketry,  and  inaccessible  to  cavalry,  the 
enemy's  converging  fire  was  awfully  destructive. 

The  Seventh  Connecticut  Regiment  of  Gen. 
Hawley's  brigade  had  come  up  with  the  cavalry, 
and  moved  on  towards  the  enemy's  impregnable 
position.  Elder's  and  Hamilton's  batteries  of 
light  artillery  followed.  At  the  outset,  not  much 
effect  was  produced,  except  by  our  field-pieces. 
More  batteries  were  sent  for,  and  the  remaining 
regiments  ordered  up.  The  Seventh  Connecticut 
was  a  splendid  regiment,  armed  with  Spencer 
rifles,  and  behaved  with  gallantry.  The  Seventh 
New-Hampshire,  Col.  Abbott,  which  had  had  a 


288  MAN  PROPOSES. 

high  reputation  in  previous  actions,  was  not  so 
fortunate  this  day,  and  began  to  waver.  At  this 
moment  the  Eighth  United-States  Regiment  of 
colored  troops  came  forward,  under  Col.  Fribley. 
These  men  had  never  been  under  fire ;  but  they 
held  their  ground  with  determined  bravery  for 
considerably  more  than  an  hour,  until  the  colonel 
and  more  than  half  the  men  were  killed  and  dis- 
abled, when  the  remnant  fell  back  in  disorder. 

The  battle  was  now  waged  in  terrible  earnest. 
Langdon's  battery  had  come  up  to  the  front  with 
the  Eighth  (colored  troops),  and  had  been  par- 
tially covered  by  them.  The  confusion  and 
retreat  of  the  Eighth  left  the  batteries  of  Lang- 
don  and  Hamilton  uncovered ;  and  the  fire  of 
the  enemy,  especially  of  the  sharpshooters,  was 
directed  upon  the  artillerists  and  horses  with 
deadly  effect.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  there 
were  not  horses  enough  left  to  draw  the  guns ; 
and  later,  when  our  troops  fell  back  upon  a  new 
line,  four  or  five  guns  had  to  be  left  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  enemy. 

The  New- York  brigade,  under  Gen.  Barton, 
which  included  Col.  Robert's  regiment,  next  came 
on,  and  fought  with  resolute  bravery.  The  dis- 
heartening thing  was  to  be  under  an  incessant 
and  withering  fire,  which  could  not  be  silenced 
nor  effectively  returned  while  the  enemy  kept 
in  its  well-protected  line.- 

Gen.  Seymour,  who  had  the  responsibility  of 
the  expedition,  arrived  at  the  front  soon  after 


MAN  PROPOSES.  289 

Gen.  Hawley.  He  saw  too  late  that  the  army 
had  been  decoyed  and  led  to  slaughter,  and  he 
made  superhuman  exertions  to  save  it  from  total 
defeat.  He  made  the  best  possible  disposition  of 
his  limited  forces,  as  each  new  occasion  required. 
The  batteries  were  managed  with  consummate 
skill.  When  the  lines  of  battle  were  thinned,  he 
sent  forward  new  troops,  until  there  were  no  more. 
He  was  on  foot  with  the  New-York  regiments 
while  they  were  at  the  front,  in  the  very  hottest 
of  the  fire,  and  exposed  himself  with  heroic 
unconcern. 

At  this  time  the  cavalry  and  mounted  infantry 
were  stationed  behind  some  bushes  on  the  enemy's 
flank,  out  of  the  action.  They  desired  and  ex- 
pected an  order  to  charge,  and  were  especially 
chagrined  not  to  receive  it  when,  later,  the  enemy 
came  out  of  their  line  of  defence,  and  made  a 
forward  movement.  Capt.  Smith  of  the  Fortieth 
went  to  Gen.  Seymour  while  he  was  dismounted 
and  in  the  thick  of  the  fight,  and  asked  that  the 
order  to  charge  might  be  given ;  but  the  general 
was  unwilling  to  risk  it.  He  probably  had  be- 
come convinced  that  it  was  impossible  to  change 
the  fate  of  the  day  against  an  enemy  whose 
effective  forces  were  more  than  double  his  own. 

The  losses  of  the  New- York  brigade  were  se- 
vere. The  ammunition  was  giving  out,  and  the 
lines  were  wavering,  when  the  two  remaining  regi- 
ments of  colored  troops,  including  Col.  Robert's, 
were  ordered  to  move.  These  defiled  in  front  of 


290  MAN  PROPOSES. 

the  white  regiments,  and  received,  for  a  time,  the 
whole  fire  of  the  enemy. 

At  this  moment  a  grand  stroke  was  planned  by 
the  rebel  commander,  and  that  was  to  break  our 
line  by  a  furious  assault.  His  cavalry  first  at- 
tempted to  move  (perhaps  as  a  feint),  but  was 
immediately  confronted  by  ours.  There  was  no 
advance  on  either  side,  and  the  forces  sat  facing 
each  other  in  silence  for  a  time.  But  the  rebel 
infantry  rushed  forward  with  a  shout,  formed  in 
solid  column  by  Echelon,  and  came  towards  the 
centre  of  our  line  at  double-quick.  The  black 
men  stood  their  ground ;  and  meanwhile  Elder's 
battery,  which  was  planted  so  as  to  give  a  volley  on 
a  diagonal  line  at  the  column,  opened  a  terrific  fire 
with  canister  at  short  range.  It  was  the  only 
opportunity  our  side  had  during  the  day  to  give 
the  enemy  as  good  as  he  had  sent.  The  column 
did  not  hold  together  to  deal  the  decisive  blow :  it 
was  frightfully  cut  up,  and  its  advance  checked. 
The  rebel  general  had  expected  to  turn  the  defeat 
into  a  rout  and  a  massacre ;  but  the  unexpected 
fire  of  the  battery  at  such  an  angle  as  to  enfilade 
the  advancing  column,  and  the  determined  brave- 
ry of  the  black  men,  saved  our  troops  from  any 
worse  disaster.  The  negroes  charged  back,  and 
even  recaptured  some  of  the  guns  which  had  been 
left  on  the  field.  They  fought  like  demons,  and 
even  believed  for  a  time  they  were  to  retrieve  our 
fortunes.  It  was  too  late.  Their  officers  were  all 
killed  or  disabled,  and  their  numbers  too  small  to 
continue  the  fight. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  291 

Three  times  during  the  battle  the  lines  of  our 
troops  were  re-formed,  and  each  time  a  little  far- 
ther back.  While  this  last  and  most  desperate 
fighting  was  going  on,  Gen.  Seymour  was  col- 
lecting his  few  shattered  forces  in  the  rear  in 
order  to  save  his  transportation,  to  care  for  his 
wounded,  and  to  retreat  still  farther.  At  sun- 
down the  enemy  ceased  firing  suddenly.  Another 
rally  and  another  charge  were  expected,  but  none 
came. 

The  negro  regiments  were  recalled,  and  fell 
back  without  a  single  mounted  officer.  One  brave 
young  fellow  whom  Mr.  Prescott  had  known  from 
a  boy,  and  for  whom  he  had  brought  a  new  uni- 
form from  his  father,  was  among  the  fallen.  The 
uniform  was  at  Hilton  Head ;  and  the  gallant 
youth  was  left  on  the  field,  to  recover  afterwards, 
as  best  he  could,  under  the  tender  care  of  the 
military  nurses  of  Andersonville. 

A  parting  volley  was  sent  into  the  woods  from 
our  batteries.  The  Seventh  Connecticut,  alert,  and 
resolute  to  the  end,  formed  last  of  the  infantry ; 
the  cavalry  closed  in  the  rear;  and  the  broken  and 
dispirited  army  began  its  »march  back  towards 
Jacksonville.  The  enemy's  cavalry  made  some 
dashes  occasionally,  but  no  effective  pursuit. 
Such  is  the  brief  outline  of  the  disastrous  battle 
of  Olustee.  Finnegan  had  been  as  good  as  his 
word. 

When  the  first  surprise  of  the  attack  was  over, 
and  the  wounded  began  to  be  brought  to  the  rear, 


292  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Mr.  Prescott  and  Amory  naturally  and  eagerly  vol- 
unteered their  help ;  and  for  those  three  terrible 
hours,  which  seemed  an  eternity  of  pain  and  ap- 
prehension, they  gave  refreshments,  bandaged 
wounds,  cheered  the  drooping,  and  soothed  the 
dying.  More  and  more  wounded  were  brought  in, 
until  all  the  resources  of  the  camp  were  insuffi- 
cient for  their  relief.  If  there  had  not  .been  some- 
thing for  these  non-combatants  to  do,  the  suspense 
would  have  been  insupportable.  Where  was 
Robert  now?  —  and  Roderick?  Perhaps  they  were 
stretched  on  that  sandy  plain,  trampled  by  hurry- 
ing feet  of  men  and  horses. 

More  than  once  the  hospital  tents  had  to  be 
moved  back ;  for  the  missiles  of  the  enemy,  as  they 
came  nearer,  whistled  among  the  surgeons,  and 
wounded  some  of  the  volunteer  helpers.  Neither 
Mr.  Prescott  nor  Amory  flinched.  They  toiled  the 
harder,  pulling  off  their  coats,  and  laboring  until 
they  were  dissolved  in  perspiration.  News  came 
momently  from  the  front  by  those  who  brought 
in  the  wounded.  First  it  was  Henry's  cavalry 
that  was  swept  away  like  chaff;  and  here  was  a 
trooper,  shot  through  the  neck  and  shoulder, 
whose  face  was  strangely  familiar.  They  remem- 
bered him  as  a  hostler  at  the  little  tavern  iu 
Eaglemont.  He  opened  his  eyes  at  the  sound  of 
familiar  voices.  "  Tell  mother,  "  he  said  with  fal- 
tering voice,  then  took  off  his  watch,  or  tried  to, 
and  closed  his  eyes  forever.  He  lies  on  the  fatal 
field  with  hundreds  more.  Both  the  friends  wept 
over  the  fate  of  the  bright  and  cheerful  boy. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  293 

Every  messenger  brought  fresh  tidings  of  disas- 
ter. It  was  all  one  way.  All  was  darkness  and 
death. 

When  the  repulse  of  the  New-York  brigade  was 
announced,  with  what  eager  eyes  did  the  friends 
scan  the  faces  on  the  stretchers !  It  was  with  per* 
petual  shudders  that  they  looked,  every  moment 
fearing  that  the  noble  features  of  Robert  would  be 
disclosed.  They  eagerly  questioned  all  who  came, 
but  to  little  purpose.  No  one  had  any  certain 
knowledge,  except  that  half  of  all  the  regiments 
were  struck,  and  that  nothing  could  be  known  as 
to  the  survivors  until  the  fight  was  over.  It  is 
not  easy  to  account  for  all  the  names  on  the  roll 
of  a  demoralized  and  retreating  troop.  However, 
they  knew  Robert  had  not  been  known  to  be 
wounded,  and  they  trusted  that  "  no  news  "  might 
be  "  good  news."  So  they  redoubled  their  efforts. 
Water  was  the  great  need,  and  there  was  none 
except  in  the  stagnant  pond  covered  by  the  Con- 
federate fire.  This  made  the  sufferings  of  the 
wounded  insupportable. 

After  a  while  the  wounded  of  the  Eighth  United- 
States  Colored  Regiment  were  carried  by  to  the 
place  assigned  for  their  own  division.  Many  of 
them  were  singing  strains  from  spiritual  songs, 
as  if  only  music  and  religion  could  lessen  their 
pangs. 

At  last,  when  the  colored  regiments  with  terri- 
ble loss  had  withstood  the  rebel  charge,  and  the 
main  body  of  the  army  was  re-formed,  and  ready 


294  MAN  PROPOSES. 

to  march,  Amory  rushed  out  to  learn  the  fate  of 
Roderick.  A  straggler  said  that  the  negro  regi- 
ments had  come  back  without  their  officers ;  that 
there  was  not  a  horse  left ;  all  were  bowled  down. 

"  The  colonel  too  ?  "  inquired  Amory. 

"Yes,"  said  the  informant,  —  "dead  on  the 
field." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Sure.  And  two  of  his  men  who  tried  to  carry 
him  off  were  shot  dead,  and  fell  upon  him  Avhere 
he  lay." 

Still  Amory  could  not  fully  believe  it,  although 
the  news  seemed  so  direct.  He  met  a  reporter  for 
a  New-York  journal,  —  one  who  had  been  exposed 
to  fire  for  the  whole  time.  He  was  an  English- 
man, short  in  stature,  and  planted  in  a  pair  of 
immensely  tall  leather  boots.  It  was  not  an  heroic 
figure,  and  Amory  could  hardly  help  smiling  in 
spite  of  the  terrible  situation. 

"Have  you  seen  Col.  Prescott  of  the  colored 
regiment  ?  "  Amory  inquired. 

The  little  man  looked  up.  To  the  honor  of 
human  nature,  two  large  tears  bubbled  out  of  his 
blue  eyes,  and  with  a  faltering  voice  he  answered, 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  him,  on  the  field  —  dead. 
All  the  officers  of  the  — th  are  killed,  including 
my  young  friend  Major  Melrose." 

It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  Amory  went 
back  to  the  hospital  tent  to  carry  the  fatal  news 
to  Mr.  Prescott.  A  very  few  words  sufficed. 
The  tears  of  women  and  children  fall  easily,  one 


MAN  PROPOSES.  295 

might  sometimes  say  naturally ;  but  the  anguish 
of  a  mature  and  reserved  man  is  terrible  to  behold. 

There  was  little  time  for  mourning.  The  well, 
and  all  who  could  keep  on  their  feet,  must  march ; 
for  the  army  was  in  full  retreat.  Stores  and 
officers'  baggage  were  burned,  so  that  the  wounded 
might  be  carried ;  for  their  number  was  so  great 
that  there  were  not  enough  ambulances.  The  hea- 
vy army-wagons  jolted  and  tortured  the  wretched 
beings  they  carried ;  and,  with  every  vehicle  in 
use,  large  numbers  of  the  dying  had  to  be  left 
to  breathe  their  last  where  they  lay. 

Before  it  was  quite  dark,  Mr.  Prescott  met  an 
officer  who  knew  Roderick,  and  he  had  the  mel- 
ancholy satisfaction  of  finding  that  his  port- 
manteau was  saved,  and  in  the  care  of  the  acting 
quartermaster.  But  the  brave  young  man  was 
struck  down  beyond  a  doubt.  It  was  hard  to 
realize  it:  he  had  been  so  full  of  life  in  the  morn- 
ing. Did  he  not  have  a  premonition?  Was  it 
not  this  that  inspired  his  affectionate  reference  to 
his  mother,  his  singular  and  oppressive  generosity 
to  Col.  Robert,  and  his  thoughtful  care  of  his 
stepfather  ?  And  now  he  lay  upon  his  last  field  ! 
How  could  the  news  be  told  to  his  mother? 

Part  of  the  army  marched  nine  miles,  and  then 
halted.  Other  regiments  reached  Barber's  Sta- 
tion, on  the  South  Fork  of  St.  Mary's  River, 
accomplishing  thirty-four  miles  in  going  and 
returning,  besides  having  had  three  hours  and  a 
half  of  stubborn  fighting.  But  the  track  of  the 


296  MAN  PROPOSES. 

army  was  marked  by  the  knapsacks,  guns,  and 
blankets  thrown  away.  After  a  time,  a  train  of 
cars  and  a  locomotive  were  found,  and  the 
wounded  were  put  aboard.  But  the  locomotive 
broke  down ;  and  the  men  of  a  Massachusetts  col- 
ored regiment,  wearied  and  suffering  as  they  were, 
volunteered  to  push  the  train  on  to  Jacksonville. 

What  a  dismal  retreat !  —  the  army  had  been 
beaten,  and  was  bleeding  at  every  pore,  its  stores 
and  most  of  its  guns  captured  or  abandoned,  its 
dead  left  on  the  sand}r  plain  or  by  the  roadside, 
and  its  dying  hurried  on  without  water,  without 
rest,  without  medical  care.  The  whole  night 
passed  before  all  the  scattered  men  found  their 
places,  and  the  losses  could  be  known.  Men  con- 
tinually came  in  who  had  crawled  off  the  battle- 
field during  the  night.  The  negroes  especially 
exhibited  the  stoicism  of  old  'campaigners,  and 
made  light  of  their  wounds,  even  when  frightfully 
mangled. 

Shortly  after  dark,  Mr.  Prescott  and  Amory, 
while  trying  to  eat  their  "  hard-tack  "  without  the 
aid  of  coffee,  had  the  unspeakable  satisfaction 
of  seeing  Col.  Robert  come  into  camp  on  foot. 
His  horse  had  been  killed,  and  he  was  near  being 
captured ;  but  he  lay  motionless  a  while,  and  then 
escaped  unhurt,  and  found  his  way  back  with 
other  stragglers. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  weary 
night,  nor  the  comfortless  march  of  the  day  that 
followed. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  297 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

As  the  reader  remembers,  Miss  Thorpe  and 
Phoebe,  on  landing  at  Hilton  Head,  were  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  meet  an  old  friend,  Col.  Hunt,  an  officer 
who  was  stationed  at  Beaufort.  By  his  advice 
they  determined  to  go  with  him  to  that  place, 
where  he  assured  them  they  would  find  pleasant 
society,  and  more  comfortable  living  than  at  the 
great  military  and  naval  depot.  He  attended  to 
all  their  wants,  and  accompanied  them  to  the  pro- 
vost-marshal's for  the  purpose  of  having  their 
passports  viseed.  Then  the  party  went  on  board 
"The  Croton,"  an  ancient  and  dilapidated  river 
steamer  from  New  York. 

It  was  a  sail  of  about  fifteen  miles,  occupying  an 
hour  and  a  half.  The  landscape  was  full  of  strange 
beauty  to  Northern  eyes.  A  soft  arid  dreamy 
haze  overhung  the  estuary.  Live-oak  groves 
with  their  outstretched  arms  stood  in  picturesque 
clumps  on  either  hand.  Avenues  of  magnolias 
were  seen  leading  to  the  old  plantations  from  the 
water-side.  Here  and  there  a  few  feathery  and 
twisted  palmettos,  looking  as  if  they  had  the 
worst  of  it  in  some  tussle  with  the  wind,  and 
larger  groups  of  the  straight  and  towering  pines, 


298  MAN  PROPOSES. 

relieved  the  monotonous  level.  The  scenery  was 
neither  that  of  winter  nor  of  summer;  for  the 
foliage  was  heavy,  dark  green,  and  glossy.  The 
trees  were  hung  with  abundant  drapery  of  moss : 
it  swung  in  festoons,  it  hung  in  tatters,  it  was 
packed  in  crows'  nests. 

The  town  of  Beaufort,  with  its  white  houses 
and  fine  trees,  looked  charming  from  the  water, 
though  it  was  less  attractive  to  our  travellers 
upon  a  nearer  view.  But  jonquils,  hyacinths,  and 
tulips  in  bloom,  were  in  all  the  yards ;  and  the 
windows  under  wide  verandas  were  open  to  admit 
the  delicious  air.  That  was  paradise  after  the 
pitiless  storms  of  the  north  Atlantic  coast. 

Col.  Hunt  went  to  the  quartermaster,  and  pro- 
cured two  confiscated  "secesh"  horses;  and  for 
the  first  time  in  their  lives  the  two  ladies  enjoyed 
the  surprise  of  being  on  horseback.  As  the  jaded 
animals  did  not  go  out  of  a  walk,  there  were  no 
adventures  by  the  way.  It  was  about  six  miles  to 
the  famous  Smith  plantation.  Their  ride  was 
mostly  on  the  beach,  sweeping  around  a  long  curve, 
over  a  firm,  white  surface  of  sea-beaten  sand.  The 
tide  had  just  receded,  and  the  marks  of  the  horses' 
hoofs  were  like  sculpture.  They  had  the  fresh  sea- 
air  on  one  side,  and  were  protected  on  the  other 
from  the  sun  by  a  superb  belt  of  pine-trees  stand- 
ing on  the  bluff  above.  On  their  way  they 
stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  remains  of  the  old 
fort  built  by  the  Huguenots  under  Jean  Ribaut, 
in  1562,  which  readers  of  our  romantic  historian, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  299 

Parkraan,  will  remember.  The  foundation-walls 
of  concrete  shells  were  in  good  preservation.  At 
the  Smith  plantation  are  the  grandest  live-oaks 
known,  those  in  the  Bonaventure  Cemetery  at 
Savannah  alone  excepted.  Miss  Thorpe  remarked 
that  she  did  not  wonder  the  Druids  worshipped 
under  oaks.  Col.  Hunt  said  the  effect  was  so 
solemn  under  the  enormous  spread  of  living  green, 
with  moss  hanging  like  tattered  historic  banners 
from  the  roof,  that  he  always  instinctively  took  off 
his  hat,  as  if  he  were  entering  a  cathedral. 

They  alighted  at  the  gate,  and  saw  a  house  much 
like  the  home  of  a  wealthy  farmer  in  the  Middle 
States.  The  negroes  within  the  enclosure,  the 
same  all  over  the  world,  —  happy,  red-turbaned, 
gay-shawled,  chattering  creatures,  —  came  out  to 
look,  and  then  rushed  into  the  house  with  the 
news. 

Col.  Hunt  and  the  ladies  were  met  by  the  occu- 
pants, —  educated  and  noble  women  who  had 
come  to  teach  the  "  contrabands."  There  were 
hearty  introductions  and  hospitable  welcomes.  In 
a  very  few  minutes  Miss  Thorpe  and  Phoebe  were 
at  home  with  congenial  people. 

Promising  to  attend  to  forwarding  their  bag- 
gage, Col.  Hunt  rode  back  to  Beaufort.  No  de- 
tention had  occurred  on  their  journey:  their 
progress  had  been  as  steady  and  frictionless  as  the 
launching  of  a  ship.  "  To  him  who  is  shod,  it  is 
the  same  as  if  the  earth  were  covered  with  leath- 
er;" and  the  two  shy  and  delicate  women  had 


300  MAN  PROPOSES. 

passed  through  camps  as  if  they  had  been  driven 
through  a  park. 

Phoebe  looked  radiant.  She  was  somewhat 
thinner  than  in  her  best  estate  ;  but  her  color  had 
returned,  and  her  hair  was  so  loosely  confined,  that 
wavy  tresses  fell  over  her  shoulders.  Here  it 
was  possible  for  her  to  be  in  the  open  air  all  day. 
Here  came  the  sense  of  freedom,  the  joy  of  mo 
tion,  the  delight  in  new.  flowers  and  in  the  bound 
less  opulence  of  nature.  This  and  much  more  wah 
evident  in  her  sparkling  eyes  and  in  her  extrava- 
gant speech.  It  seemed  as  if  she  enjoyed  every 
sight  with  an  intensity  of  satisfaction  like  that  of 
a  person  suddenly  brought  out  of  blindness  into  a 
garden. 

Here  Miss  Thorpe  and  Phoebe  found  a  charm- 
ing home.  They  were  surrounded  with  comforts. 
They  were  overwhelmed  in  hospitality.  Their 
windows  let  in  the  fragrance  of  spring.  The  skies 
above  and  the  earth  beneath  seemed  to  belong  to 
another  world.  Their  walks  were  bordered  with 
lovely  and  fragrant  but  (to  them)  unnamed  shrubs. 
They  loitered  by  ponds  whose  edges  were  bristling 
with  Spanish-bayonet.  Huge  cactus-plants,  with 
lobes  as  large  as  shoulders  of  mutton,  sprawled 
around.  Enormous  Mexican  aloes  bent  their 
graceful  leaves.  A  few  steps  took  them  to  the 
beach  to  see  the  sandpipers,  and  to  hear  the  mel- 
ancholy plaint  of  the  curlew  and  the  ceaseless 
clatter  of  the  water-hens. 

Ah,  what  a  rest  for  an  invalid !  What  an 
ecstasy  for  an  enthusiast  like  Phoebe ! 


MAN  PROPOSES.  301 

But  in  intervals  of  repose  Miss  Thorpe  felt  that 
something  unspoken  rested  upon  Phoebe's  mind. 
She  could  see  the  forerunners  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing in  her  looks ;  and  the  girl's  lips  seemed  mov- 
ing as  if  to  utter  something.  But  she  did  not 
speak.  A  singular  change  would  come;  and  she 
would  remain  silent,  or  else  refer  to  some  unim- 
portant matter. 

"  Why  do  you  not  say  what  you  are  thinking  ?  " 
said  Miss  Thorpe,  when  they  were  together. 
"  How  much  we  talked  of  the  awful  news  before 
we  sailed  !  Is  that  what  you  are  brooding  over  ?  " 

"  I  seem  to  have  been  led  here,"  Phcebe  replied. 
"  I  have  dreamed  things  I  cannot  relate  in  order. 
They  are  confusing.  But  I  think  Roderick  is  not 
dead,  as  we  heard  ;  and  I  hope  we  shall  see  him. 
I  have  seen  him  in  dreams.  I  have  seen  also  other 
friends  and  many  strange  things." 

Except  for  the  absence  of  Mr.  Prescott,  Phcebe 
appeared  perfectly  happy.  The  teachers  with  whom 
she  was  living  were  women  of  energy  and  charac- 
ter, refined  and  accomplished.  They  had  all  come 
from  comfortable  Northern  homes,  and  had  de- 
voted themselves  to  the  wants  of  the  soldiers  in 
hospitals,  and  to  the  education  of  the  colored 
people,  with  unselfish  zeal. 

Miss  Thorpe  recovered  from  her  cough,  and  was 
as  joyous  and  demonstrative  as  was  possible  for 
one  so  instinctively  -serene. 

There  were  nearly  fifty  ladies  at  the  post  in  and 
around  Beaufort,  including  the  wives  and  daugh- 


302  ^     MAN  PROPOSES. 

ters  of  officers,  and  the  teachers  and  guests.  Tea- 
parties  were  given,  excursions  were  planned,  and 
there  were v  often  rambles  by  the  river-side.  The 
officers  were  from  nearly  all  sections  of  the  coun- 
try j  but  Col..  Hunt  was  easily  superior  in  manners, 
in  intellect,  and  knowledge.  Miss  Thorpe  said  he 
had  the  brow  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  the  bear- 
ing of  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  But  then  she  had  met 
him  at  the  Plato  Club ;  and  it  has  been  thought 
barely  possible  that  the  members  of  that  Olympian 
circle  may  see  each  other  looming  up  to  miracu- 
lous stature.  Certainly  no  more  accomplished  or 
more  agreeable  gentleman  ever  buckled  on  a 
sword.  He  was  a  tower  of  strength  to  our  two 
ladies,  and  almost  made  them  think  that  the  war 
had  no  excuse  for  being,  except  as  it  furnished 
them  a  perfect  sanitarium  in  the  midst  of  the  most 
vivid  scenery  in  nature. 

The  22d  of  February  was  approaching,  and  it 
was  proposed  that  the  birthday  of  Washington 
should  be  celebrated  in  such  splendor  as  was  pos- 
sible. Upon  a  strong  appeal  to  the  great  func- 
tionaries, an  immense  storehouse  was  cleared  of 
its  stock  of  hay  and  straw,  and  put  in  a  state  of 
cleanliness.  Some  tin-workers  were  found  among 
the  soldiers,  who  made  from  tomato- cans  a  set  of 
gorgeous  chandeliers,  fitted  to  hold  kerosene-lamps. 
Foraging  parties  daily  went  out  into  the  woods,  — 
vast  numbers  of  them,  —  and  were  on  the  lookout 
for  what  was  beautiful  or  strange.  Ladies  came 
daily  to  combine  the  harvest  of  evergreens  into 


MAN  PROPOSES.  303 

striking  and  artistic  forms.  The  post  band  prac- 
tised music  for  quadrilles  and  waltzes.  When  all 
was  ready,  this  hastily-built  pine  structure,  adorned 
as  it  was,  became  the  most  magnificent  ball-room 
ever  seen.  A  profusion  of  evergreens,  oak-leaves, 
magnolias,  and  bearded  moss,  hung  in  festoons  from 
the  rafters,  and  coiled  about  the  beams,  braces, 
and  supports.  Clusters  of  Spanish-bayonet  imi- 
tated the  display  in  an  armory.  The  music-stand 
became  a  green  bower.  Leaves  of  palmetto  waved 
like  gigantic  ostrich-feathers.  And  through  all 
the  rich,  deep,  and  dense  green,  were  set  points  of 
color,  where  some  jessamine,  or  tulip,  or  peach-bud 
showed  that  the  sun's  call  to  the  spring  blossoms 
was  beginning  to  be  felt.  This  enormous  mass  of 
greenery  so  arranged,  so  alive  with  gold  and  rose- 
color,  and  illuminated  with  such  splendor,  made 
an  impression  that  no  beholder  will  ever  forget. 

The  triumphs  of  dressmaking  were  hardly  to  be 
looked  for  in  a  remote  military  post,  to  which  it 
was  not  allowed  for  each  lady  to  carry  a  wagon- 
load  of  Saratoga  trunks.  But  clever  and  ingen- 
ious women  will  hardly  ever  be  seen  at  a  disad- 
tage,  if  there  is  only  a  little  time  for  preparation. 
Very  few  of  those  who  were  present  at  that  ball 
probably  thought  of  such  a  contingency,  certainly 
our  Phoebe  did  not.  But  as  a  few  wild  blossoms 
gave  the  grace  of  contrast  to  the  masses  of  green 
upholstery,  so  a  bit  of  rich  lace,  a  bright  ribbon, 
a  Roman  scarf,  or  wrought  collar,  made  even  plain 
costumes  attractive  ;  and  few  except  those  expe- 


304  MAN  PROPOSES. 

rienced  in  such  matters  would  have  said  that  the 
whole  party  had  not  brought  their  richest  attire 
along  with  them. 

Phoebe  had  been  so  depressed  in  mind,  that,  at 
starting,  she  had  packed  few  except  the  most 
necessary  clothes.  Miss  Thorpe,  who  did  not 
dance,  was  more  thoughtful ;  and  as  she  foresaw 
that  Phoebe's  gloom  would  wear  away,  and  that 
some  fit  occasion  might  arise,  she  had  brought 
along  for  her  a  superb  dress  of  corn-colored  silk 
with  black  velvet  trimmings,  the  appropriate  laces, 
and  the  coral  ornaments. 

All  the  ladies  came  to  the  ball  in  ambulances. 
The  ensemble  was  unexpectedly  brilliant.  The 
general  commanding  led  off  the  dance  with  his 
lady.  As  Miss  Thorpe  declined  to  go  upon  the 
floor  except  as  a  spectator,  Col.  Hunt  offered  his 
arm  to  Phoebe.  There  was  a  general  murmur  of 
admiration  as  she  moved  across  the  hall.  Her 
stature,  her  brilliant  eyes,  exquisite  color,  perfect 
carriage,  and  magnificent  costume,  would  have 
attracted  attention  in  any  court. 

During  the  evening  the  officers,  for  there  were 
but  few  civilians  present,  flocked  about  for  intro- 
ductions ;  and  our  Phoebe  conducted  herself  with 
her  usual  sweet  discretion. 

"  Favors  to  none,  to  all  she  smiles  extends  ; 
Oft  she  rejects,  but  never  once  offends." 

Later,  while  sipping  coffee  with  Col.  Hunt,  Miss 
Thorpe  noticed  Phoebe  going  forward,  with  a  tall 


MAN  PROPOSES.  305 

and  athletic  officer  as  her  partner,  in  the  "  Lan- 
cers." That  showy  quadrille  had  not  then  been 
put  under  ban.  The  lively  music  struck  up,  and 
the  large  hall  resounded  with  martial  steps.  Some 
jar  occurred.  Was  there  a  tipsy  musician?  a 
dancer  out  of  step  ?  No :  there  was  a  little  flurry 
about  the  music-stand.  Miss  Thorpe  looked 
eagerly.  Col.  Hunt  raised  his  stately  head  also. 
Both  felt  a  simultaneous  shock.  Miss  Thorpe's 
heart  stood  still ;  and  she  trembled  violently,  as 
the  general  commanding,  emerging  from  the  flur- 
ried group,  mounted  the  stand  and  spoke  in  a 
dismal  tone.  It  took  several  —  seconds,  shall  we 
say?  —  for  the  musicians  and  the  surging  crowd 
on  the  floor  to  stop,  and  to  concentrate  their 
attention  upon  the  general.  They  were  like  per- 
sons suddenly  roused  from  sleep.  In  those  few 
seconds  many  thoughts  flitted  by.  The  first 
notion  was,  that  the  town  was  attacked,  although 
the  gunboats  kept  up  their  steady  patrol  day  and 
night,  moving  through  dull  creeks  and  lagoons,  and 
entirely  surrounding  the  town.  But  the  gloomy 
voice  of  the  general  at  length  pierced  the  dis- 
tracted air,  and  the  gayety  of  the  scene  was  dead. 
The  purport  of  his  message  was,  that  our  forces 
in  Florida  had  met  with  a  great  disaster ;  that  the 
steamer  "  Cosmopolitan  "  had  just  arrived  at  the 
wharf,  bringing  a  large  number  of  wounded  and 
dying ;  that  the  help  of  every  man  was  needed  at 
once  ;  that  the  ambulances  were  required  at  the 
wharf,  and  the  ladies  must  walk  home ;  that  the 


306  MAN  PROPOSES. 

wounded  men  would  be  carried  past  the  ball-room 
on  their  way  to  the  hospital,  and  the  general 
thought  they  ought  not  to  hear  the  sound  of 
dancing  music. 

It  was  a  wild,  agitated  throng.  Ladies  whose 
husbands  were  away  on  the  fatal  expedition 
shrieked  and  fainted.  Officers  hurried  to  get  the 
ladies'  wraps,  and  to  arrange  for  their  going  home 
in  squads.  The  ambulances  were  hurriedly  hitched 
up,  and  rattled  away.  Musicians  picked  up  their 
horns,  and  ran  to  help.  The  chaplain  looked  as 
if  he  thought  it  a  fit  time  to  offer  prayer ;  but  he 
was  disregarded,  and  hustled  about  like  an  old 
woman.  In  less  time  than  these  sentences  can  be 
read,  the  whole  company  had  dispersed.  Women 
hurried  home,  satin-slippered,  weeping  and  moan- 
ing ;  and  every  able-bodied  man  was  on  his  way 
to  the  wharf. 

When  Miss  Thorpe  first  observed  Phoebe  in 
the  "  Lancers/'  dancing  with  the  athletic  officer, 
and  saw  her  at  that  dreadful  moment  pause  with 
her  partner,  she  noticed  her  face  becoming  lumi- 
nously pale,  and  her  eyes  fixed,  as  if  on  an  appari- 
tion of  the  dead.  The  next  minute  she  had  disap- 
peared. With  a  strong  grasp  on  her  partner's 
arm,  she  said,  "  Come  !  my  wraps,  —  the  ambulance, 
quick  !  to  be  first  at  the  wharf,  —  first !  " 

Like  lightning,  they  flew  to  the  shawls.  Her 
own  was  flung  about  her,  and  out  they  rushed  to 
an  ambulance.  The  driver  did  not  spare  the 
mules,  but  lashed  and  swore,  and  they  flew  all  the 


MAN  PROPOSES.  307 

way  as  if  they  were  winged  with  curses.  The 
officer  did  not  question  Phoebe  at  first,  so  fierce 
and  sudden  was  her  approach  ;  but  now  he  begged 
her  to  desist.  He  assured  her  she  did  not  know 
what  she  was  going  to  see ;  that  she  could  not 
bear  it ;  that  it  would  utterly  overcome  her ;  that 
she  was  insufficiently  clothed  for  the  night  air, 
and  that  her  slippers  were  no  protection  against 
the  damp  ground.  He  begged,  implored  her  to 
turn  back. 

"  I  am  going  to  that  steamboat,"  she  said  more 
calmly. 

The  great  white  side  of  the  steamer  was 
against  the  wharf.  Men  stood  with  iron  jacks 
of  pitch-pine,  burning  fiercely,  and  giving  a  lurid 
light  on  the  scene.  At  the  gangways,  inclined 
planks  were  placed,  and  on  the  deck  and  by  the 
stairs  stood  soldiers  with  spectral  lanterns.  As 
the  wounded  were  seen  under  the  wild  and  glan- 
cing lights,  it  was  like  searching  out  the  outlines 
of  some  dying  figure  that  seems  to  be  writhing 
in  a  dusky  picture  painted  centuries  ago.  The 
work  of  removal  had  barely  begun  when  Phoebe 
and  the  officer  reached  the  wharf.  The  crowd 
gathered  momently,  the  soldiers,  sutlers,  and 
negro  servants  full  of  curiosity  and  of  dread. 
But  Phoebe  would  not  yield:  so  the  officer  got  a 
box  and  placed  her  on  it,  that  she  might  see.  A 
sharp  groan  was  heard ;  and  the  officer  renewed 
his  entreaty :  "  Leave,  I  pray  you,  leave  this  hor- 
rible place  !  "  She  was  silent.  The  voice  of  the 


308  MAN  PROPOSES. 

sufferer,  by  one  of  those  modulations  unknown  to 
musical  art,  and  acquired  only  by  divine  grace, 
seemed  to  change  itself,  and  to  escape  from  the 
burden  of  pain  it  was  bearing,  and  to  turn  its  wild 
anguish  into  the  sweetest  note,  the  prelude  of  a 
melodious  strain  of  praise  to  the  Redeemer.  It 
was  a  sudden  and  instant  appeal  to  the  heart. 
The  pulsations  of  that  tone  must  have  stirred  the 
air  of  heaven. 

"  O  Phoabe,"  exclaimed  Miss  Thorpe,  who  with 
Col.  Hunt  had  now  arrived,  "why  have  you 
come  here  ?  Do  you  wish  to  die  ?  Will  you 
break  my  heart  ?  Come,  let  us  go.  There  are 
men  enough  to  help,  —  men.  It  is  no  place  for 
you,  so  lately  an  invalid.'' 

Col.  Hunt  added  his  earnest  admonitions.  But 
she  was  inflexible. 

So  the  ghastly  sufferers  were  brought  ashore 
on  stretchers,  —  men  with  every  form  of  injury  : 
some  were  dying ;  some  were  dead ;  some  were 
happily  insensible. 

As  new  groups  appeared,  bringing  some  new 
horror,  Phoebe  looked  at  each  for  one  instant 
only,  and  then  turned  her  face  away. 

Col.  Hunt,  Miss  Thorpe,  and  the  officer  were 
thinking  of  carrying  her  off  by  force.  The  num- 
ber of  the  wounded  was  very  large,  and  their 
removal  would  take  hours.  It  was  now  near  one 
o'clock.  A  couple  of  men  emerged  from  the 
darkness ;  one  elderly,  and  rather  stout,  the  other 
sljort,  arid,  brisk  in  movement.  The  light  flashed 


MAN  PROPOSES.  309 

on  them,  and  Phoebe  exclaimed  with  delight.  Mr. 
Prescott  heard  her  cry,  then  rushed  towards  her, 
and  embraced  her  with  tears  and  kisses. 

"But,  my  darling,"  he  said,  "here  this  awful 
night!  —  O  Miss  Thorpe,  and  my  good  friend 
Col.  Hunt,  let  us  leave  here !  Let  us  go  to  the 
nearest  house :  I  am  sick  of  wounds ;  I  am  dying 
with  the  pain  I  cannot  help.  My  flesh  is  quiver- 
ing as  I  see  those  gashes.  Oh,  my  God !  " 

"  First  tell  me,"  said  Phoebe,  "  is  Roderick  liv- 
ing?" 

"  Yes  :  I  hope  he  is." 

"  Then  he  is  not  on  board.  But  who  came  in 
charge  of  this  boat  ?  " 

"  Col.  Prescott." 

"  Did  you  not  say  he  was  not  on  board  ? 

"  Col.  Roderick  Preseott  is  not :  this  Col.  Pres- 
cott is  another  person." 

Here  Amory  disappeared  in  the  shadow,  but 
presently  came  within  hearing. 

"  Come,  my  darling,"  said  Mr.  Prescott,  "  let 
us  go  to  the  general's  house  and  have  our  talk. 
I  will  have  the  other  Col.  Prescott  follow  us." 

She  made  him  no  answer;  but,  looking  steadily 
beyond  him,  she  exclaimed,  — 

"Mr.  Amory,  come,  let  me  shake  your  hand. 
You  are  a  good  and  a  brave  man.  Who  is  there 
behind  you  ?  " 

The  group  of  faces  was  strangely  lighted  up  as 
Ainory  with  manly  pride  stepped  forward  and 
took  the  proffered  hand. 


310  AfAN  PROPOSES. 

"  Dear  Miss  Phcebe,  be  strong ;  for  here  is  a 
surprise.  —  Colonel,  please  step  forward." 

A  colonel's  cap  was  raised,  a  brown-haired,  sun- 
burned man  appeared.  Hardship  and  suffering 
had  left  their  marks  upon  him ;  but  there  was  no 
mistaking  the  noble  features  and  the  wonderful 
steel-blue  eyes  of  Robert  Prescott. 

Mr.  Hugh  Prescott  and  Percival  Amory,  who 
had  come  on  the  boat  with  the  newly-found  colo- 
nel, had  a  sympathetic  delight  in  the  surprise  of 
Phcebe  and  Miss  Thorpe ;  and  as  the  vivid  signs 
of  feeling  trembled  over  the  women's  faces,  their 
joy  growing  intense,  until  its  ecstasy  was  like  a 
pain,  the  men  looked  on  with  answering  emo- 
tion, their  sterner  features  at  play  with  smiles, 
and  then  struggling  in  more  rigid  lines,  until 
tears  welled  out  of  their  eyes  Under  the  fitful 
light  of  the  torches,  Phcebe  was  pale  as  marble. 
She  held  to  Mr.  Prescott  with  a  spasmodic  grasp ; 
while  Miss  Thorpe,  who  feared  a  return  of  insan- 
ity, supported  her  on  the  other  side. 

After  the  first  shock  was  over,  Col.  Robert  was 
the  only  one  who  made  any  pretence  to  composure. 
Swift  questions  flew.  Answers  followed  in  brief 
words  interpreted  b}?  quick  glances.  But  not  a 
moment  had  passed  before  the  elder  of  the  party 
saw  the  necessity  of  removing  Phoebe  from  a  scene 
that  was  making  such  a  strain  upon  her  sensibili- 
ties. Both  he  and  Miss  Thorpe  interposed,  and 
insisted  upon  her  going  to  the  house.  Col.  Robert 
was  invited  to  accompany  them ;  but,  pointing  to 


MAN  PROPOSES.  311 

the  ghastly  procession  that  was  still  slowly  coming 
up  from  the  cabin,  he  said,  "  You  would  all  despise 
me  if  I  left  my  post.  I  must  stay  here  until  the 
last  man  is  put  into  the  ambulance.  I  shall  see 
you  at  breakfast." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Mr.  Prescott  proudly. 
'•  But  come  and  breakfast  with  us." 

"Still  faithful  to  duty,"  thought  Phoebe;  "al- 
ways duty.  Before,  it  was  preaching  to  the  hea- 
then ;  now  it  is  care  of  the  wounded.  Is  there 
place  left  for  love  ?  If  his  love  and  duty  should 
be  one,  what  a  noble  lover  he  might  be !  "  Some- 
thing like  this,  not  in  set  words,  perhaps,  flashed 
through  her  mind  as  Col.  Robert  raised  his  hat, 
and  in  a  grave,  sweet  tone  said,  "  Until  morning, 
then." 

The  fate  of  Roderick  was  not  made  known  to 
the  women.  It  was  thought  not  best  to  distress 
them  until  there  was  a  certainty. 

The  ladies  were  lodged  at  the  house  used  for 
the  general's  headquarters.  The  two  men  were 
entertained  by  the  post  ordnance  officer,  —  a  great 
hearted  and  enthusiastic  young  man  from  a  West- 
ern State.  He  accompanied  the  whole  party,  so 
as  to  give  the  countersign  to  the  black  sentinels, 
whose  rapid  challenges  and  quickly  levelled  guns 
were  sometimes  terrifying,  even  to  their  superior 
officers. 

As  for  Robert,  his  watch  lasted  until  the  stars 
began  to  pale  in  the  east ;  when,  going  below,  he 
flung  himself  into  his  berth,  wrapped  in  his  blan- 
ket, for  a  few  hours'  repose. 


312  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

IT  was  under  a  wide  veranda  on  the  sunny  side, 
looking  out  upon  a  spacious  but  neglected  garden 
surrounded  by  an  overgrown  and  ragged  hedge, 
that  our  re-united  friends  sat  the  morning  after 
the  ball.  The  great  gate  on  the  line  with  the 
street,  with  flanking  pillars  surmounted  by  glossy, 
black  eight-inch  shells,  showed  that  this  was  the 
headquarters  of  the  ordnance  department.  Few 
flowers  grow  where  war  sets  its  iron  hoof;  yet 
through  the  decayed  vegetation  of  the  old  year, 
the  timid  white  and  pink  and  yellow  blossoms  were 
putting  out  their  pretty  heads,  and  the  chattering 
birds  were  building  nests  in  the  garden  trees. 

Miss  Thorpe  and  Phoebe,  for  whom  a  supply 
of  clothing  had  been  brought  from  their  lodgings, 
were  reposing  in  huge  rustic  chairs.  They  had 
come  over  from  the  general's  house  to  meet  their 
long-lost  friends.  Mr.  Prescott  was  perched  on  a 
stool  that  had  once  been  a  chair :  he  was  still  sad- 
e}red  but  silent.  Amory,  seated  on  the  floor  of  the 
veranda,  was  swinging  his  legs  over  the  edge,  at 
a  safe  distance  above  the  flower-beds.  Steps  were 
heard  approaching  the  house.  Phoebe's  hand 
rested  in  Miss  Thorpe's  palm,  and  at  the  sound 


MAN  PROPOSES.  313 

Miss  Thorpe  almost  heard  the  bound  of  the  girl's 
heart.  An  instant  later,  through  the  pale  trans- 
lucency  of  her  face  and  neck  were  seen  the  fine 
reticulations  in  which  the  crimson  flush  was 
spreading  and  mingling,  until  the  whole  ivory  sur- 
face had  become  one  rosy  glow. 

"  You  love  him,"  said  Miss  Thorpe  with  a  pene- 
trating whisper  that  was  neither  heard  nor  observed 
by  the  others.  Col.  Robert  and  Major  Royce,  the 
ordnance  officer,  were  coming  through  the  gate. 

"  You  love  him,"  said  Miss  Thorpe,  in  the  same 
tone  as  before,  fixing  a  glance  upon  Phoabe's  rich 
color  and  her  eager,  tremulous  eyes. 

All  rose  to  meet  the  officers.  More  chairs,  look- 
ing like  relics  of  a  railroad  accident,  were  brought 
out,  and  conversation  became  general. 

While  in  Florida,  Mr.  Prescott  had  heard  Robert 
relate  his  history  after  his  sudden  departure ;  but 
he  thought  it  better  that  the  ladies  should  hear  it 
from  his  own  lips.  So,  after  a  few  general  com- 
ments upon  the  scenery  and  the  novelty  of  the 
surroundings  at  a  military  post,  the  colonel  was 
asked  to  give  an  account  of  himself.  Conticuere 
omnes  ;  and  he  repeated,  though  more  fully,  the 
story  we  have  already  told. 

"  I  know  well  how  strange  it  seems  to  you  to  see 
me  in  uniform ;  but  I  hardly  know  how  it  would 
seem  for  me  to  assume  the  character  of  a  clergy- 
man again.  I  think  I  had  never  before  found  my 
place  in  the  world." 

It  was   true:    he   looked   every  inch  a  soldier. 


314  MAN  PROPOSES. 

The  shyness  and  reserve  of  the  student  had  disap- 
peared, and  his  manner  was  as  firm  and  assured  as 
if  he  had  been  brought  up  in  camp. 

"  Still  it  was  no  whim  or  fickleness  that  moved 
me  to  enter  the  service.  It  was  a  paramount  duty, 
I  thought." 

Phoebe  winced  at  the  word.  Duty  was  the  one 
thing  he  thought  of. 

When  he  mentioned  his  escape  on  horseback, 
with  a  dozen  of  the  enemy  in  pursuit,  Phoebe 
became  intensely  interested,  almost  beyond  self- 
control.  Then,  when  he  told  of  his  floating  down 
the  Edisto  River  on  a  log,  moving  only  by  night, 
and  lying  hid  in  tree-tops  by  day,  making  his  way 
among  reptiles,  and  subsisting  upon  raw  potatoes 
given  him  by  some  negro  in  hiding,  she  was 
still  more  agitated. 

Miss  Thorpe  remembered  the  fever-dreams,  in 
which  Phoebe  related  with  dramatic  vividness  the 
same  thrilling  scenes ;  and,  firmly  planted  as  she 
was  upon  the  basis  of  reason  and  fact,  she  could 
not  repress  a  sudden  thrill  at  the  coincidences. 
Had  those  lovely  eyes  followed  a  lover,  and  seen 
what  was  going  on  a  thousand  miles  away  ? 

But  she  thought  it  best  to  change  the  subject. 
"  You  have  not  told  us,  Mr.  Prescott,  about  Col. 
Roderick." 

"No,"  he  replied.  "I  have  not  seen  him  since 
the  morning  of  the  battle,  as  he  rode  by  at  the 
head  of  his  regiment.  He  still  had  a  bandage  on 
his  arm,  and  there  was  a  mark  over  his  temple.  He 


MAN  PROPOSES.  315 

had  grown  thin  and  wiry,  and  quite  heroic  too,  in 
his  appearance,"  looking  at  Col.  Robert. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  colonel,  —  "a  very  distin- 
guished-looking officer ;  a  man  of  sterling  char- 
acter, and  high  reputation  in  the  army.  Poor 
fellow ! " 

"  But  you  don't  say  what  has  become  of  him," 
said  Phoebe,  startled  anew. 

"  Does  she  love  him  ? "  thought  the  colonel. 
"  Let  us  see  how  she  bears  it." 

So,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  her,  he  continued, 
"  After  the  last  fatal  charge  made  by  his  regi- 
ment, I  saw  the  men  coming  back  without  their 
officers.  There  wasn't  a  mounted  man  left.  I 
inquired  for  Col.  Roderick."  Here  Mr.  Prescott 
moaned,  and  the  colonel  stopped. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  he  is  killed  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  women  in  a  breath. 

"  No,  I  trust  not,  but  wounded,  and  a  pris- 
oner." 

"  You  poor,  dear,  good  man ! "  sobbed  Phoebe 
upon  Mr.  Prescott's  shoulder.  "  This  will  kill 
his  mother."  And  again  she  heard  in  the  recesses 
of  memory,  "  Was  it  for  you  that  I  have  lost  my 
son  ?  "  Robert  would  have  almost  given  his  life 
if  he  could  have  read  her  secret  soul ;  but  her 
eyes  were  like  wells,  not  to  be  fathomed  by  a 
gaze. 

"  Search  was  impossible,"  said  Robert,  "  as  the 
enemy  held  the  field,  and  fired  at  those  who 
went  to  look  for  the  wounded,  or  to  bury  the 


316  MAN  PROPOSES. 

dead.  There  were  not  surgeons  enough,  for  such 
a  disaster  had  not  been  anticipated ;  and  that  was 
why  this  great  boat-load  of  agony  had  to  be 
brought  here.  We  all  got  back  to  Jacksonville 
as  well  as  we  could.  A  sorry  time  we  had.  The 
general,  in  consideration  of  the  coming  of  my 
uncle  and  friend,  and  that  I  might  visit  two  ladies 
whom  I  had  known,  put  the  steamer  under  my 
charge. 

"  You  will  wonder  why,  with  all  these  reports, 
I  still  believe  my  namesake  to  be  alive.  The 
morning  we  left,  a  rebel  flag  of  truce  came  in  to 
camp  to  confer  about  prisoners.  I  made  the 
inquiry.  k  No,  they  had  no  such  officer.'  But 
I  found  a  colored  servant  with  the  party,  and 
watched  my  opportunity.  Upon  describing  Rod- 
erick to  the  experienced  darkey,  he  said,  '  Oh,  yes ! 
cunnle  of  de  colored  troops  !  Dey,'  pointing  to 
his  master,  '  don't  count  dem.  Our  cunnle  don't 
'low  dem  to  be  off'cers.  He  hurt  mighty  bad ; 
but  he  tough:  yes,  he  tough.  He  git  well  if  dey 
don't  send  him  to  An'sonville.'  I  was  sure  he 
had  recognized  Roderick.  God  help  him  !  for  his 
captors  won't." 

"  Poor  Eleanor ! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Prescott. 
"  Her  life  is  bound  up  in  him.  I  hope  he'll  get 
home  alive." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments.  All 
were  thinking  of  the  absent  mother. 

"  We  shall  renew  our  inquiry  through  the  next 
flag  of  truce,"  said  the  colonel ;  "  and  I  hope  you 
will  have  good  news  to  carry  home." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  317 

"  If  the  day  could  have  been  long  enough !  If 
no  call  to  duty  intervened !  If  all  the  company 
save  one  could  be  temporarily  banished  !  If  there 
were  to  be  no  to-morrow ! "  So  thought  the 
colonel,  as  he  looked  at  the  vision  of  exceeding 
beauty  just  out  of  reach.  The  steamer  was  to 
return  at  once.  Only  an  hour  of  liberty  was  his. 
What  were  her  feelings  towards  him  now  ?  The 
thought  went  surging  around  in  his  mind ;  and, 
though  he  had  faced  many  dangers,  he  would 
rather  encounter  the  whole  over  again  than  leave 
the  idol  of  his  heart  with  the  momentous  question 
unsettled.  It  wa-i  an  anxiety  too  great  to  be 
borne.  Perspiration  came  upon  his  broad  fore- 
head, and  wet  his  temples.  Perhaps  he  was 
externally  calm,  but  within  there  was  a  fury  of 
contending  feelings.  It  could  not  continue.  He 
stepped  off  the  veranda  as  calmly  as  he  could, 
walked  about  the  garden,  picking  a  blossom  or 
a  shining  leaf  here  and  there,  wiping  his  forehead 
meanwhile.  Then  he  walked  towards  the  house, 
no  more  tranquil  at  heart,  and  handed  the  bunch 
of  flowers  to  Phoebe.  "  Think  of  me !  "  he  said 
in  a  soft  and  deep  tone. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  she  asked  tremulously. 

"  Yes,  in  an  hour.  Won't  you  walk  a  few  min- 
utes in  the  garden  ?  you  may  have  some  message 
—  for  Roderick."  He  was  ashamed  of  the  ebul- 
lition of  jealousy  before  it  was  off  his  lips. 

With  a  look  at  Miss  Thorpe,  Phoebe  stepped  off 
the  veranda. 


318  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  This  may  be  my  only  minute,"  he  said  passion- 
ately. "To-morrow,  —  do  you  realize  it? — I 
shall  be  with  my  regiment  —  what  is  left  of  it. 
Where  next,  who  knows?  We  are  only  pawns  in 
this  terrible  game.  Now,  Phoebe,  tell  me,  you 
were  surprised,  but  were  you  pleased,  with  the 
change?  Are  you  glad  I  entered  the  service?" 

u  I  am  glad  you  are  brave,  but  sorry  there  is 
need  for  so  many  sacrifices.  I  think  of  the 
country  as  a  mother  mourning  over  her  sons." 

Phoebe  was  attentive,  even  alert;  but  her  face 
was  still  flushed  from  weeping,  and  a  mist  of  sor- 
row still  dimmed  her  eyes. 

"  I  did  not  go  to  the  war  to  win  you :  the 
woman  I  love  would  not  be  won  in  that  way. 
But  don't  think  me  heartless,  or  indifferent  to  the 
fate  of  others,  —  of  Roderick,  —  if  I  say  that  I 
cannot  bear  the  thought  of  going  back  without 
knowing  your  feelings  towards  me." 

"  Oh !  in  this  moment,  with  these  aching  hearts 
near  us,  with  what  is  before  you,  how  can  you  ? 
I  pray  you,  Col.  Prescott,  until  we  meet  again, 
to  be  satisfied  with  sympathy  and  good-will.  I 
am  sorely  pressed :  I  hardly  know  on  what  ground 
I  stand." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  kind  words  !  I  have  been 
hardened  in  manner,  perhaps,  by  my  experiences ; 
but  you  know  my  heart  is  yours.  That  is  the 
only  hope  I  have,  to  deserve  your  love :  otherwise 
I  should  think  death  in  battle  the  great  prize." 

"  Oh  !  do  not  talk  in  this  wild  way.     How  can  I 


MAN  PROPOSES.  319 

listen  after  that  dreadful  experience  of  last  night  ? 
—  here,  encircled  with  a  ring  of  fire ;  with  every 
thing  in  the  future  uncertain ;  with  Mr.  Prescott 
sitting  yonder ;  with  that  mother  away  there  in 
New  England  —  Poor  Roderick  !  " 

Robert  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  sympathy, 
and  his  sorrow  for  the  hard  lot  of  Roderick  was 
unaffected.  But  a  train  of  thought,  that  reached 
far  back  to  that  interview  when  his  rival  told  him 
he  meant  to  win  Phoebe,  now  took  fire,  and  began 
to  blaze  like  a  line  of  fuse  leading  to  a  magazine. 
This  unusual  journey,  undertaken  in  winter,  amid 
the  scenes  of  actual  war,  with  every  possible  dis- 
couragement, and  against  all  manner  of  obstacles, 
undertaken  not  only  by  the  step-father,  but  by  a 
delicate  girl,  —  what  did  this  all  portend?  The 
party  had  not  come  to  search  for  him,  the  lost 
clergyman:  no,  it  was  to  see  Roderick.  Doubt- 
less Phoebe  had  instigated  it:  there  must  nave 
been  a  correspondence.  Phoebe  had  betrayed  her- 
self; and  now  to  his  earnest  plea  she  had  only 
responded,  "  Poor  Roderick !  " 

The  very  earth  seemed  to  sink  beneath  him. 
How  foolish  he  had  been  not  to  see  the  meaning  of 
the  journey  before  I  The  light  of  his  life  was  extin- 
guished. Fighting  henceforth.  He  heard  the 
heavy  undertone  of  the  steam  from  the  wharf:  it 
resounded  as  if  it  were  the  foundation-note  of 
some  colossal  organ,  infernal  in  quality,  and  appall- 
ing in  its  suggestions,  —  fit  accompaniment  for  the 
agonizing  chorus  of  war. 


320  MAN  PROPOSES. 

He  went  again  upon  the  veranda. 

"  You  hear  the  signal !  My  time  is  up :  I  hope 
to  come  here  again,  if  you  remain  long.  Be  sure 
of  my  best  efforts  to  find  Roderick.  We  shall  all 
meet  in  happier  times.  God  bless  you ! " 

With  a  hearty  farewell  to  each  the  colonel  took 
leave.  A  few  minutes  later,  from  an  upper  win- 
dow Phoebe  saw  through  swimming  eyes  the 
great  white  steamer  heading  southward. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  321 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

IT  was  a  high  misdemeanor  to  have  one's  house 
open  in  summer,  even  with  all  the  profusion  of 
grass  and  shrubbery  that  were  to  be  seen  from  the 
front  windows ;  and  Mrs.  Prescott  had  intended 
to  have  been  away  with  the  world  of  fashion  at 
the  seaside.  -  But  it  was  now  June ;  and  she  had 
been  detained  in  the  city,  waiting  for  the  long- 
expected  return  of  the  two  colonels.  Her  son 
Roderick  was  now  at  home,  and  Robert  was  with 
him.  Roderick  had  been  a  prisoner  in  the  stock- 
ade at  Florence,  and,  being  apparently  at  death's 
door,  the  Confederate  officers  had  agreed  to  his 
exchange.  Robert  had  been  ill  with  a  fever,  and, 
besides,  had  been  wounded,  and  was  granted  a 
furlough.  The  colonels  had  come  on  from  For- 
tress Monroe  together,  only  a  few  days  before  the 
date  of  this  chapter. 

The  luxury  of  sleeping  in  real  beds  they  had 
enjoyed  to  the  uttermost,  and  could  not  be  induced 
to  rise  for  breakfast  before  eleven.  Then  Robert, 
who  had  two  sound  legs,  helped  Roderick,  whose 
knee  had  been  shattered,  down  the  stairway  to  the 
breakfast-table  that  was  spread  for  them  near  the 
conservatory.  And  then  Roderick,  who  had  two 


322  MAN  PROPOSES. 

practicable  arms  and  hands,  prepared  the  viands  at 
table  for  Robert,  whose  right  elbow  and  wrist  had 
been  injured  by  a  shell.  Roderick's  features  had 
become  as  sharp  as  a  pickerel's  during  his  illness 
and  imprisonment,  and  he  ate  ravenously,  as  if  on 
a  wager.  Robert  had  grown  grave,  and  had  the 
bearing  oi»  a  man  of  middle  age ;  or,  if  he  had  not, 
he  thought  he  had,  which  amounts  to  about  the 
same  thing.  Since  his  great  sorrow,  he  had 
schooled  himself  to  an  unusual  sobriety  of  speech 
and  manner.  The  quenching  of  an  absorbing 
passion  is  not  done  without  such  an  effort  as 
leaves  a  visible  impress  of  the  struggle. 

Probably  he  suspected  that  he  had  been  in  the 
wrong,  and  had  proceeded  without  tact  in  his  last 
interview  with  Phosbe  at  the  island.  He  began 
to  remember  that  he  had  accepted  the  theory  of 
her  preference  for  Roderick  without  the  least  proof. 
It  might  be,  after  all,  that  he  had  foolishly  run 
away  from  his  own  happiness.  In  the  interval  he 
had  been  closely  scanning  that  former  lady-killer, 
to  observe  whether  there  was  any  change  in  his 
manner  when  the  name  of  Phoebe  was  mentioned. 
They  had  met  once,  Miss  Thorpe  having  called 
with  Phoebe ;  and  Robert  saw  no  indication  of  an 
understanding,  —  none  of  the  glances  nor  flushes, 
nor  the  eager  speech,  that  betray  the  accepted  or 
the  interested  lover.  It  was  in  a  happy-go-lucky 
way  that  Roderick  spoke  of  Phosbe  and  of  every 
other  person  and  topic.  In  short,  the  preacher- 
colonel  began  to  believe  that  Roderick  had  really 


MAN  PROPOSES.  323 

renounced  his  pretensions,  and  he  accused  himself 
of  being  a  suspicious  idiot. 

While  they  were  breakfasting  upon  lamb-chops 
and  peas,  with  a  pint  of  claret  between  them  (or- 
dered by  the  doctor  to  save  Robert's  scruples),  the 
door-bell  rang,  and  our  young  friend  Amory  rushed 
in.  The  greetings  were  hearty,  as  between  men 
who  had  a  common  ground  of  respect  and  attach- 
ment ;  and,  after  the  visitor  had  repressed  the 
sigh  that  came  at  the  sight  of  their  injuries,  he 
sat  down  by  the  table. 

"  And  so  you  are  really  home  again  !  When  I 
heard  they  had  you  cooped  up.at  Florence,  I  feared 
it  was  all  up  with  you.  —  And  you,  Robert,  you  are 
rather  peaked.  We  must  have  you  padded  and 
rouged.  Are  you  both  out  of  the  service  ?  " 

"  I  am  not,"  said  Roderick.  "  When  my  leg  is 
better,  1  am  going  back  to  see  the  end  of  it.  I 
mean  to  be  in  at  the  death,  if  I  don't  get  hit 
again." 

"  Oh,  I  see !  you  want  a  general's  star.  —  But 
how  is  it  with  you,  Robert  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  made  up  my  mind.  I  may  go  back 
to  my  regiment ;  or  I  may  take  a  place  on  the 
staff ;  or  I  may  resign.  I  shall  consult  my  father 
and  uncle." 

"  Then  you'll  resign,  /  know.  Your  father  and 
mother  are  on  pins  and  needles  about  you.  Your 
mother  wants  you  to  resign,  and  preach." 

Roderick  laughed ;  then,  seeing  the  looks  of 
Amory  and  Robert,  he  said,  "  Oh !  Robert  is  good 


324  MAN  PROPOSES. 

enough.  He  is  cleaner  than  any  chaplain  in  the 
army.  But  a  man  who  can  handle  a  regiment  as 
he  can,  to  preach  !  I  think  not.  He  ought  to  be  a 
corps  commander." 

"  I  don't  know  that  ability  is  any  disqualifica- 
tion in  the  Lord's  service,"  said  Robert  gravely. 

"  Of  course  not.  But  it's  one  thing  to  rattle  off 
Scripture,  and  quite  another  to  move  a  body  of 
men  against  a  battery." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  said  Amory. 

"I  think,"  replied  Robert,  "that,  if  my  duty 
had  not  called  me  into  the  field,  I  should  have  been 
glad  to  serve  my  Master  as  father  and  mother 
wished." 

"  But  now,"  said  Roderick,  "  that  you  have 
found  your  place  among  active  men,  you  will  let 
the  timid ,.  scholastics  do  the  preaching  for  you. 
Isn't  that  so  ?  " 

"  I  shall  think  about  it,"  said  Robert.  "  By  the 
way,  father  and  mother  are  coming  to-day,  I 
believe." 

"  Are  they,  indeed  ?  And,  as  Mary  is  here,  we 
shall  have  a  family  party.  So  jolly  !  " 

Roderick  looked  amused  at  the  animation  of 
Amory,  but  said  nothing. 

"How  is  Gibbs?"  inquired  Robert,  with  a  gleam 
of  merriment. 

"  Fatter  than  ever,"  said  Amory,  rubbing  his 
hands ;  "  and  his  nose  is  more  coppery.  But  that's 
all  the  copper  he  has.  I  got  his  stock,  or  rather 
Mr.  Prescott  and  I  together,  at  li." 


MAN  PROPOSES.  325 


"  And  how  is  it  now  ?  " 

178J.     Don't  you  read  '  The  Advertiser  '  ?  " 

"No,  I  confess;  not  the  stock-reports.  They 
don't  interest  me." 

"  You  ought  to;  else  you  can't  properly  enjoy 
Gibbs's  sufferings.  That  sign  of  ours  —  how  it 
burns  him  !  Gilt  letters  just  across  the  way." 

"  How  is  his  business  ?  " 

"  Gone  to  pot.  The  old  clerks  made  a  new 
concern,  and  got  the  pick  of  all  the  mills.  Gibbs 
kept  only  those  that  owed  him,  and  he  has  to 
carry  them.  Oh !  he's  been  catching  it.  I  expect 
the  Miantonomo  is  going  to  fail.  If  it  does,  he's 
done  for." 

."  My  uncle,  then,  has  no  share  in  the  mill  busi- 
ness?" 

"  I  didn't  say  that,"  replied  Amory.  "  The  new 
team  wanted  his  name,  and  they  needed  capital. 
It's  Prescott  &  Co.  still,  by  Jupiter !  It's  sweet 
for  Gibbs,  you  believe  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Prescott,  entering,  "  the  old 
house  has  a  new  foundation  and  new  prospects." 

"  Shall  I  ? "  said  Amory  mysteriously,  after  a 
pause. 

"  Yes,  if  you  like,"  said  Mr.  Prescott. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Amory,  with  a  little  con- 
scious air,  "if  you  two  colonels  have  had  your 
fill  of  war,  you  are  invited  to  take  places  in  the 
Corinthian,  —  one  here,  and  one  at  the  mine ;  or 
you  can  alternate.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  inquired  Roderick.  "  You 
have  legs." 


326  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  You  have  arms,"  was 
the  answer  of  Robert. 

"  We'll  sleep  over  it,"  said  Roderick. 

"  Yes,  till  noon,  I've  no  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Pres- 
cott,  with  a  twinkle. 

"  Plans  for  the  future,"  mused  the  lover,  with 
a  cautious  look  at  his  comrade,  "  and  no  mention 
of  Phoebe.  Can  he  love  her  still  ?  " 

Here  there  was  a  new  and  pleasant  interruption. 
Mary  came  floating  in  like  a  pink  blossom  on  the 
wind,  said  hurriedly,  "  Papa's  at  the  door,"  and 
then  swiftly  went  into  the  hall,  followed  by  her 
brother  Robert. 

Roderick  remained  sitting,  though  strangely 
affected  ;  for  he  could  not  rise  without  help.  Mr. 
Prescott  stalked  to  the  window  as  he  heard  the 
door  open,  and  affected  to  look  for  signs  of  rain ; 
while  Amory  pulled  out  his  handkerchief,  and 
buried  his  face  in  it.  The  mother  and  father  were 
meeting  their  long-lost  son.  No  one  within  hear- 
ing could  listen  unmoved  to  the  sacred  maternal 
joy  and  grief  that  flowed  in  mingled  tides.  The 
mother's  strong  nature  was  subdued,  and  gave 
way  in  passionate  sobs  upon  the  neck  of  the  son 
of  her  heart.  This  was  her  boy,  her  beloved, 
and  he  had  come  back,  —  had  come  back  in 
honor ;  and  here  was  the  brave  fellow's  lacerated 
arm.  It  was  too  much.  God  was  too  good.  In 
His  arms  her  boy  had  been  safe.  He  watching 
over  Israel  slumbers  not  nor  sleeps.  He  suffered 
not  a  foot  to  be  moved.  The  pestilence  that 


MAN  PROPOSES.  327 

walketh  in  darkness,  and  the  destruction  that 
wasteth  at  noonday,  had  passed  by  him.  Thou- 
sands had  not  prevailed  against  him,  nor  had  ten 
thousands  made  him  afraid.  Yes :  God  had 
saved  him  from  the  slings  and  arrows  of  the 
mighty ;  and  now  he  was  to  testify  to  His  good- 
ness, and  rejoice  in  his  loving-kindness.  "•  Like  as  a 
father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth 
them  that  fear  him." 

So  the  divine  instinct  hurried  the  great-hearted 
mother  on,  until  uncle  Solomon  took  her  gently 
by  the  arm,  and  again  and  again  pleaded  with  her, 
"  Come,  come,  Zeruiah  !  come  now,  do  !  Be  calm, 
and  let  Robert  go  and  sit  down.  You'll  wear  your- 
self out,  and  him  too.  Come,  don't  cry  any  more  ! 
He's  here,  and  safe  :  'tain't  as  though  he  was  down 
in  Andersonville,  lookin'  for  a  place  to  lay  his 
bones." 

By  and  by,  completely  exhausted,  the  mother 
was  led  to  a  seat  in  the  drawing-room  ;  and  there 
she  sat,  still  in  her  travelling-suit,  with  her  eyes 
closed,  rocking  slowly,  and  murmuring  her 
prayers  and  thanksgivings. 

The  father  found  his  way  to  the  window,  and 
silently  grasped  his  brother's  hand ;  then,  beckon- 
ing to  his  son,  they  two  sat  down  in  a  corner. 
Even  the  humorous  old  man  had  been  in  tears 
by  sympathy  with  his  wife's  strong  emotion  ;  but, 
while  the  drops  still  glistened  on  his  leathern 
cheek,  the  old  spirit  rose,  and  he  shook  himself 
as  he  said,  "  Your  mother  allers  has  'em  ready,  — 


328  MAN  PROPOSES. 

them  texts.  She  shook  'em  over  ye  as  ef  she  had 
a  pepper-box  full." 

Mary  had  stolen  near  Amory  for  sympathy 
during  this  scene  ;  and  they  withdrew  to  the  adja- 
cent room,  where  they  were  soon  busy  catching 
butterflies. 

Mr.  Prescott  meantime  walked  about,  dropping 
a  word  here  and  there. 

"I  say,  Amory,"  said  he,  "have  you  finished 
that  poem?  It's  odd  if  lines  about  sparrows 
don't  pair.  Perhaps  you  and  Mary  will  rhyme 
together,  and  become  a  poem,  or  at  least  a  coup- 
let, yourselves." 

"  We've  a  glorious  poem,  —  in  prospect,"  said 
the  happy  man. 

Mrs.  Prescott  now  appeared,  and  persuaded 
her  sister-in-law  to  retire  for  a  while  in  order  to 
take  off  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  compose  her- 
self. No  one  now  remained  but  the  two  elderly 
men  and  the  two  colonels,  and  the  conversation 
became  more  cheerful. 

"  Hugh,"  said  uncle  Solomon,  "Robert  tells  me 
you've  got  a  good  thing  in  that  'ere  copper-mine." 

"Yes,  brother  Solomon, — better  than  raiding 
poultry,  or  hauling  cord-wood  to  the  village." 

"  No  slip-up  in  it,  I  s'pose  ?  " 

"I  think  not.  Ask  Amory  about  the  size  of 
the  hill,  —  all  copper." 

"  I'm  ginerally  skeery  about  stocks.  Dan 
Drew,  or  one  of  them  oppyrators,  last  summer 
got  hold  of  our  minister,  and  made  him  think  he 


MAN  PROPOSES.  329 

was  goin'  to  make  his  fortin ;  and  he  told  the 
deacons,  and  they  told  the  squire  ;  and  so  it  went 
round,  and  they  all  bought  sheers:  and  if  that 
crafty  feller  didn't  jest  clean  out  our  village  I " 

"  It's  a  way  they  have.  People  don't  steal  any 
more :  that's  simple  and  vulgar.  They  only  get 
up" stock  companies." 

"  Wai,  I've  got  a  little,  not  much,  —  a  thousan' 
or  two,  —  and  I've  been  gittin'  six  or  seven  per 
cent  for't.  P'raps  I'll  draw  it  in,  and  git  the 
vallue  in  sheers." 

"If  you  like.  And  I'll  make  over  an  equal 
number  to  Mary.  I  have  just  offered  Robert, 
here,  and  Roderick,  chances  to  go  in.  There's 
room  enough." 

"  Of  course  you'll  go  in ;  won't  you,  boys  ?  I 
kin  call  you  boys,  now  that  you  hain't  got  your 
eppylets  on.  How  is  it,  Roderick  ?  " 

"'  Uncertain,  uncle  Solomon.  I  want  to  see 
the  war  out,  and  Davis  and  Lee  here  in  Fort 
Warren.  Time  enough  to  make  money  after 
that.  Besides,  mother  has  been  talking  of  my 
going  to  see  my  English  relatives.  I  haven't 
decided." 

Once  more  Robert  thought,  "A  trip  to  Eng- 
land, and  no  mention  of  Phrebe." 


330  MAN  PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SIGNOR  BELVEDERE  was  back  again  from 
Europe.  He  had  aired  and  brightened  his  rooms, 
and  had  restored  the  flower-pots  to  the  windows. 
The  bird  had  been  brought  home,  and  the  piano 
was  in  exquisite  tune.  The  sheaf  of  rapiers,  fen- 
cing-foils and  canes,  hung  over  the  mantel.  The 
chairs  were  in  picturesque  disorder,  and  the  secret 
closets  newly  filled  with  house-keeping  articles. 

He  had  dressed  himself  with  extreme  care,  and 
had  combed  his  beard  until  it  fell  in  soft,  white 
waves  over  the  purple  necktie.  For  the  first 
time  in  this  country,  he  wore  an  unusual  orna- 
ment, —  a  heavy  medal  of  gold  on  his  breast.  His 
closely-fitting  black  frock-coat  was  trimly  but- 
toned, and  a  small  crimson  ribbon  was  just  visible 
in  the  buttonhole  of  the  lapel.  Then,  with  the 
ceremonial  glossy  silk  hat  (which  he  detested),  his 
costume  was  complete.  Selecting  the  slimmest  of 
malacca  sticks,  he  drew  on  his  buff  gloves, 
whistled  to  his  bird,  and  descended  to  the  street, 
making  a  figure  as  striking  and  as  graceful  as  one 
often  beholds.  He  walked  leisurely  to  Mount 
Vernon  Street,  and  reached  Mr.  Prescott's  house 
a  little  after  twelve,  just  as  a  carriage  left  Miss 
Thorpe  and  Phoebe  at  the  door. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  331 

Phoebe  had  entirely  recovered  her  health  and 
spirits,  although  her  experiences  had  given  her  an 
unusual  maturity  of  expression  in  one  so  young. 
Since  her  return  from  the  South,  she  had  resumed 
her  place  as  a  music-teacher,  but  passed  a  day  or 
two  each  week  with  Miss  Thorpe.  They  had  now 
come  in  compliance  with  a  request  from  Signer 
Belvedere,  who  had  in  a  characteristic  note  in- 
formed them  of  his  return,  and  expressed  a  desire 
to  meet  them  at  Mr.  Prescott's. 

He  was  more  stately  than  ever ;  and,  though  his 
manner  was  gracious,  his  self-command  was  per- 
fect. No  one  not  in  his  secret  could  have  told 
whether  he  had  come  to  give  a  lesson,  to  attend  a 
funeral,  or  negotiate  a  treaty.  Phoebe  felt  "her 
heart  beat  loudly  as  she  walked  up  the  steps,  and 
Miss  Thorpe  had  completely  lost  her  self-control 
in  the  protracted  suspense.  The  pale  and  anxious 
lady  wished  she  could  have  the  Italian  illuminated 
from  within,  like  a  city  clock  at  night.  She  was 
vexed  that  he  could  smile  like  a  fiend,  while  she 
was  in  such  an  agony.  Clearly  he  had  missed  the 
chance  of  distinction  as  a  diplomatist. 

Phoebe  and  Miss  Thorpe  were  shown  into  the 
reception-room,  where  they  met  Mrs.  Prescott, 
resplendent  in  the  newest  of  morning  costumes. 
She  noticed  first  the  complementary  colors  of  her 
visitors'  white  chip  hats,  —  hyacinthine  pink  upon 
Phoebe's,  and  purplish  lilac  upon  Miss  Thorpe's, 
—  and  saw  how  each  lent  beauty  to  the  other. 
She  next  surveyed  the  new  brocade  curtains,  the 


332  MAN  PROPOSES. 

fresh  laces,  the  rich  mossy  carpets,  the  regilded 
picture  frames,  and  dwelt  a  moment  on  the  glimpse 
of  gorgeous  colors  seen  at  a  distance  in  the  con- 
servatory. Yes,  all  was  as  it  should  be,  and  she 
was  sure  her  friends  would  find  themselves  harmo- 
nious figures  in  a  charming  parterre. 

The  three  ladies  advanced  into  the  larger  room : 
both  parlors  had  been  thrown  open  together,  as 
well  as  the  breakfast-room  and  the  conservatory. 
Signor  Belvedere  attended  them,  holding  on  to 
his  hat  as  if  it  were  the  cover  of  a  jewel-case,  or  a 
gift  he  was  to  place  before  some  shrine. 

The  two  colonels  were  at  the  breakfast-table, 
which  had  been  cleared  of  every  thing  but  the 
crystal  claret  jug,  and  to  that  Roderick  continued 
to  pay  his  devotions.  They  were  playing  back- 
gammon ;  and  aunt  Zeruiah,  hearing  the  rattle  of 
dice,  lifted  her  eyes,  and  groaned.  She  had  ex- 
postulated against  the  sin  when  the  board  was 
first  brought,  in  vain.  Her  solemnity  had  returned, 
and  it  oppressed  her  like  the  band  of  artificial  hair 
that  rested  on  her  broad  brows.  Amory  and  Alary 
Prescott  were  still  in  the  small  adjacent  room, 
apparently  engaged  in  some  literary  exercise  that 
was  excessively  amusing.  Sounds  like  "  kiss  "  and 
"  bliss,"  and  "  love  "  and  "  dove,"  were  heard  at 
intervals,  with  occasional  bursts  of  laughter  inex- 
plicable to  all  but  the  rhymers  themselves. 

The  two  elder  Prescotts  were  in  the  back-parlor, 
and,  after  the  usual  compliments,  resumed  their 
seats.  It  was  evident  to  both  that  the  meeting 


MAN  PROPOSES.  333 

of  the  guests  was  not  accidental.  Uncle  Solomon 
was  full  of  admiration  for  Phoebe,  but  Signor 
Belvedere  was  a  puzzle  to  him.  The  eyes  of  the 
honest  countryman  followed  the  lithe,  courtier- 
like  movements  of  the  Italian  with  undisguised 
curiosity. 

"  Guess  he's  one  of  them  foreign  lords,  ain't  he  ? 
Looks  like  one.  I  remember,  in  a  picter  where 
Clumbus  was  tryin'  to  show  how  he  was  goin'  to 
discover  Ameriky,  there  was  a  man  like  that,  only 
he  had  tight  breeches  on." 

The  reply  was  a  mere  nod ;  and  uncle  Solomon 
continued  his  comments,  especially  wondering 
how  "  a  man  with  airs  like  them  are  could  demean 
himself  to  teach  singinV 

The  various  groups  were  in  some  inexplicable 
manner  drawn  together  by  the  delicate  art  of  the 
Italian.  A  word  to  this  and  a  smile  to  that  per- 
son had  the  effect,  after  a  time,  of  concentrating 
the  attention  of  all.  He  had  neglected  no  one  in 
the  apartments,  and  had  even  quite  won  the  admi- 
ration of  aunt  Zeruiah  by  his  skilful  posing  of 
her  son  Robert  in  the  attitude  of  a  Christian  hero. 
All  were  in  the  front  parlor,  or  within  hearing. 
The  colonels  laid  aside  their  game,  and  came  for- 
ward together,  —  one  hobbling  with  a  crutch,  the 
other  with  his  arm  in  a  sling.  The  sight  was  new 
and  touching ;  but  the  sufferers  were  cheerful, 
almost  merry,  over  their  misfortunes,  and  carried 
the  matter  in  such  a  high  and  nonchalant  way  as 
to  take  off  the  pathetic  impression.  Phoebe  and 


334  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Miss  Thorpe  greeted  the  heroes  with  warm  words 
and  with  looks  of  tenderest  sympathy.  Signor 
Belvedere  meanwhile  was  stealthily  watching  the 
girl,  believing  that  her  countenance  would  betray 
her,  and  show  to  which  of  them  she  was  attached. 
But,  though  Robert  was  his  favorite,  he  could  not 
observe  that  she  was  any  warmer  in  her  manner 
towards  him  than  towards  Roderick.  She  did  not 
show  her  feelings. 

Then  the  young  men,  in  turn,  related  something 
of  their  adventures ;  and,  while  this  was  going  on, 
Signor  Belvedere  had  a  new  light  upon  his  former 
perplexities.  For  he  remembered  vividly  the 
scenes  when  Phoebe  in  her  delirium  had  described 
what  she  saw.  It  was  Robert,  not  Roderick, 
whose  thrilling  ride  for  life  she  had  followed  with 
the  lenses  of  love's  second  sight.  It  was  Robert, 
not  Roderick,  who  had  been  hunted  through  the 
swamps,  and  had  paddled,  while  blistered  and  hun- 
gry, down  the  river  to  the  sea.  It  was  the  image 
of  Robert,  not  Roderick,  that  had  attracted  her, 
and  made  her  willing  to  brave  the  wintry  sea  in 
search  of  him.  And,  with  all  this  undying  passion 
in  her  breast,  she  had  met  her  lover  without  an 
unmaidenly  thought,  and  left  him  to  learn  her 
heart  by  trial  at  home. 

He  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Prescott,  and  smiled,  as  he 
saw  with  what  intense  interest  she  was  regarding 
the  drama  in  progress. 

He  looked  again  at  Phoebe.  Her  tranquillity 
did  not  deceive  him  any  longer. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  335 

"  Noble  girl  I  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Pure  and 
discreet,  she  will  die  before  she  will  speak.  It  is 
the  soul  of  the  daughter  of  a  great  race.  She 
could  be  a  heroine,  a  Joan  of  Arc,  if  need  be." 
How  he  admired  her,  adored  her!  He  would 
have  been  proud  to  kneel  to  her  as  to  a  queen. 

The  Signor  further  questioned  the  colonels  as  to 
their  purposes,  and  heard  from  them  what  we 
have  learned  already.  Only  Roderick,  as  he  was 
always  more  affected  by  the  latest  notion,  was  a 
little  less  firm  about  seeing  the  end  of  the  war, 
and  appeared  to  be  waiting  to  know  more  about 
the  English  relatives. 

Here  Mr.  Prescott  interposed,  and  mentioned 
his  offer,  which  the  Signor  heard  with  surprise. 
He  looked  at  the  speaker  and  at  the  young  men. 
It  was  like  a  dream  to  be  told  that  the  ridiculous 
copper  stock  had  come  to  have  a  value,  and  was  to 
make  all  the  family  rich. 

The  demeanor  of  the  young  men  in  presence  of 
the  charmer  was  perplexing  to  Mr.  Prescott. 

"  The  young  dogs  !  "  thought  he.  "  I  wonder 
which  of  them,  after  all,  is  to  get  my  niece !  I 
can't  think  Roderick  really  meant  to  give  her  up 
if  he  ever  really  cared  for  her.  He  is  gay  and  off- 
hand, no  sighing  lover  surely.  And  Robert, 
though  he  is  nervous  and  hectic,  is  grave  and 
silent.  Has  she  jilted  them  both  ?  " 

Robert  was  more  and  more  astonished  at  the 
manner  of  Roderick.  Was  it  claret  now,  as  it 
had  been  commissary  [D]  before  ?  There  was  no 


336  MAN  PROPOSES. 

tremor,  no  eagerness  of  expression,  no  tenderness, 
in  his  voice.  He  might  have  shown  as  much  agi- 
tation at  the  sympathy  of  the  housemaid.  Then 
glancing  at  Phoebe,  Robert  saw,  or  thought  he 
saw,  beneath  the  apparent  calm  of  her  counte- 
nance. His  soul  rose  to  mid-heaven  at  the  thought. 
Yes,  he  had  been  a  blind  idiot. 

"Roderick  is  almost  impertinent,"  thought  his 
mother.  "  How  can  he  be  so  indifferent  when  so 
much  is  at  stake  ?  I  should  like  to  pull  his  ears." 

"  They  have  conspired :  I  am  sure  of  it.  They 
have  exchanged  confidences  while  in  camp  to- 
gether, and  have  agreed  to  slight  me,"  thought 
Phoebe. 

"  The  dandy  has  become  blas£  and  hardened, 
and  the  preacher  has  grown  worldly,"  thought 
Miss  Thorpe.  "  I  liked  him  as  a  poetical  enthu- 
siast better." 

"  I  wonder  if  those  coxcombs  think  such  a  girl 
as  that  is  to  be  had  every  day  for  the  asking," 
said  Mr.  Prescott  to  himself,  as  he  looked  at  the 
pair  who  were  lolling  on  the  sofa.  "  In  my  time 
I  would  have  leaped  a  barnyard  gate,  merely  for 
one  look  of  hers." 

Aunt  Zeruiah  with  a  heightened  color  said  in  a 
clear  voice,  — 

"  Whatever  others  may  decide,  I  hope  my  son 
will  not  be  deceived  by  the  riches  and  vanities  of 
this  world,  but  will  turn  his  face  toward  God,  and 
preach  his  everlasting  gospel." 

Uncle  Solomon,  as  usual,  quieted  his  spouse, 


MAN  PROPOSES.  337 

and  she  proceeded  to  cool  her  cheeks  with  a  broad 
and  breeze-compelling  fan.  The  city  dame  smiled 
as  the  formidable  implement  was  spread,  and 
wondered  if  its  like  could  be  found  anywhere 
except  in  a  museum. 

"  You  know,  madam,"  said  Belvedere,  addressing 
Mrs.  Prescott  with  more  than  his  usual  formality, 
"  that  I  had  some  strongg  rea-son  to  make  a 
winter  trip  across  the  At-a-lantic.  I  wish-ed  to 
know  the  truth  about  the  parentage  of  our  beloved 
Phaybe.  You  have-a-thought,  with  some  rea-son, 
that  she  was  your  niece.  I  am  compel-led  to  tell 
you  she  is  not."  There  was  a  general  murmur. 

"  No,  madam  :  your  brother  Roderick  Manning 
marri-ed  the  Countess  della  Torre,  then  a  widow, 
and  with  one  very  young  child.  That  child  was 
nam-ed  Phaybe,  and  she  is  La  Contessa.  It  is  this 
girl, —  our  Phaybe.  She  is  La  Contessa.  Her 
mother  did  bear  a  child  to  Roderick,  her  second 
husband  ;  but  that  child  di-ed  in  infancy.  Phaybe 
is  not  a  Manning,  —  not  your-a  niece.  These 
thinggs  I  have  surely  learn-ed,  both  in  England  and 
in  Italy.  There  is  a  small  estate,  an  an-cient  house, 
—  you  may  call  it  a  castle,  —  and  a  vineyard,  which 
is  the  seat  of  the  Delia  Torres,  and  which  will  be- 
long to  the  Contessa  here.  A  similar  good-fortune 
awaits  Colonel  Roderick.  His  uncle  Ralph  Man- 
ning invites  him  over,  as  next  heir,  to  make  the 
house  his  home,  and  bids  me  tell  him  he  has  pick-ed 
out  a  beautiful  and  a  rich  youngg  lady  for  him." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  the  Signer  looked  at 


338  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Roderick  and  Phoebe,  and  glanced  from  the  one  to 
the  other. 

"  No  bond  between  them  that  will  kill  by  being 
severed,"  thought  he. 

Robert's  breath  was  coming  fast ;  and  his  face 
would  have  been  deadly  pale,  except  for  the  bright 
spots  in  his  cheeks. 

Poor  Miss  Thorpe  !  Now,  that  Phcebe  was  not 
the  niece  of  Mrs.  Prescott,  was  her  turn  coming  ? 

"But,  Phaybe,"  Signer  Belvedere  continued, 
"  you  have  not  ask-ed  me  about  the  Delia  Torres. 
Have  you  no  curiosity  about  your  father?" 

Phoebe  found  herself  strangely  calm  while  all 
the  company  were  so  excited  in  her  behalf.  She 
thanked  her  generous  friend,  and  answered  that 
she  would  be  most  grateful  to  know  about  both 
her  parents. 

"  Aha  !  "  he  replied.  "  One  at  a  time.  Of  the 
father  I  will  say  he  was  Count  Ferdinando  della 
Torre,  the  son  of  my  elder  sister.  No  other  male 
relative  of  the  name  survives.  On  the  other  side 
—  the  Cavalcantes ;  I  arn  the  head  of  the  house. 
I  am  the  Cavalcante.  You  are  the  daughter  of 
my  nephew,  the  next  heir  of  my  blood,  the  daugh- 
ter and  the  best  belov-ed  of  my  heart." 

He  raised  his  arms,  and  in  so  doing  showed  the 
decoration  on  his  breast.  He  looked  towards 
Phoebe,  and  she  rushed  into  his  fatherly  embrace. 

The  scene  was  a  part  of  one  of  nature's  own 
dramas ;  and,  when  Phoebe  looked  up,  she  saw 
only  a  circle  of  faces  bedewed  with  tears. 


MAN  PROPOSES.  339 

What  Robert  felt  in  that  moment  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  describe.  He  had  begun  to  repent  his 
abrupt  breaking-off  the  suit  when  they  were 
.last  together.  He  had  seen  that  Roderick  was 
not  her  lover ;  and,  under  that  inscrutable  loveli- 
ness of  feature,  he  thought  there  might  be,  after 
all,  concealed  a  deep  and  tender  regard  for  him. 
But  he  had  vowed  to  himself  never  to  renew  the 
question ;  and  now  that  she  was  a  countess,  and 
with  an  assured  future  in  the  land  of  her  birth, 
how  could  he  ask  her  again  to  be  his  wife  ?  He 
had  cut  himself  off  from  all  that  he  desired  on 
earth. 

"And  now,"  continued  Signer  Belvedere,  "as 
to  the  unfortunate  mother,  the  countess,  whose 
hard-a  fate  it  was  to  die  in  a  tenement-house,  after 
seeing  the  death  of  her 'husband  and  of  the  off- 
spring of  their  love  ;  to  die  afar  from  kindred,  and 
without  the  offices  of  the  church,  and  to  leave  her 
remaining  child  in  the  care  of  that  poor  but  great- 
hearted Irish  angel,  —  as  to  that  mother,  I  have-a 
been  able  to  learn  nothing.  I  visited  the  place 
where  her  first  marriage  took  place.  I  saw  the 
records  of  the  church,  and  the  book  of  the  notary. 
The  entry  of  the  marriage-contract  is  there ;  but 
some  one  has  cut  out  the  name  of  the  bride. 
Why,  I  cannot  say ;  but  so  it  is.  I  found  the 
baptism  of  Phaybe,  and  the  names  correspond 
with  those  found  in  the  mother's  prayer-book." 

"  Oh,  if  you  were  only  my  poor  sister's  daugh- 
ter ! "  said  Miss  Thorpe  in  an  outburst  of  motherly 
feeling. 


340  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  No  one  knows  that  she  is  not,"  answered 
Belvedere  meaningly.  "I  have  often  remark-ed 
that  in  her  are  blended  the  best-a  traits  of  both 
English  and  Italian  races.  It  was  then  I  thought 
she  had  an  English  father  and  a  mother  from  my 
own  country.  But  now  my  own  blood  is  accounted 
for;  and  it  may  be  that  the  strain  of  English 
beauty  and  of  English  high  bearing  comes  from 
an  American  mother,  and  perhaps  even  from  the 
lovely  prima  donna  whose  loss  you  have  so  long 
lamented." 

"  To  think  we  shall  never  know ! "  said  Miss 
Thorpe  pensively. 

"You  are  more  than  aunt,  and  more  than 
mother  even ! "  said  Phrebe  impetuously.  "  I  shall 
always  claim  my  share  in  that  portrait;  and  I 
have  a  place  here"  fervently  embracing  the  child- 
less woman. 

"  And  so  it's  a  great  lady  ye  are ! "  broke  in 
Mrs.  Maloney,  who  had  been  waiting  in  the  hall, 
and  could  restrain  herself  no  longer.  "  The  Lord 
bless  ye,  and  the  blessed  Virgin  kape  ye  !  " 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Maloney,"  said  Phoebe,  turning,  and 
seizing  her  hands,  "  I  am  glad  you  are  here  to 
wish  me  joy.  We  will  never  part  again,  —  not  if 
you  will  live  with  me." 

Mrs.  Maloney  retired,  courtesying,  and  quite  as- 
tonished at  her  temerity  in  speaking  out  unasked. 

Signor  Belvedere  (as  we  shall  still  call  him) 
was  standing  by  Pho3be,  chatting  gayly,  and  cooing 
like  an  elderly  pigeon,  with  an  air  of  immense 


MAN  PROPOSES.  341 

satisfaction.  He  fixed  a  look  upon  Robert  which 
appeared  to  signify  unmistakably,  "  Come  !  " 

That  bashful  and  despondent  youth  saw  and 
wondered.  He  had  remained  by  Roderick,  be- 
cause he  was  naturally  bound  to  aid  him  in  loco- 
motion. Perhaps  Roderick  also  saw  the  same 
invitation  in  the  Italian's  eyes,  and  meant  to  take 
himself  out  of  the  way ;  for  he  said,  "  Here, 
Robert,  help  me  to  mother,  if  you  can  do  it  with 
your  left  flipper.  Your  legs  are  all  right.  I  have 
something  to  say  to  the  old  folks.  Land  me,  and 
leave  me." 

As  Roderick  was  going  out  of  hearing,  Amory 
observed  in  a  burlesque  philosophic  tone,  "  This 
family's  fortunes  show  that  the  best-laid  plans 
gang  aft  aglee.  Miss  Phoebe  wished  to  be  a 
public  singer.  Look  at  her:  she  is  La  Contessa. 
Robert  was  sure  he  was  going  to  preach.  Look  at 
him :  he  is  every  inch  a  colonel.  Mr.  Prescott 
hoped  he  would  beat  Gibbs,  and  had  no  faith  in 
copper.  Now,  he  didn't  beat  Gibbs  until  the 
Corinthian  had  become  the  pillar  of  his  fortunes. 
Mrs.  Prescott  was  going  to  have  a  niece  and 
perhaps  a  daughter-in-law;  but  that  is  turning 
out  otherwise.  Good-fortune  comes,  but  not  as 
we  expect.  For  instance,  my  being  named  for  a 
poet  was  to  no  purpose ;  yet  I  hobble  on  to  pros- 
perity in  prose.  Man  steers  the  ship;  but  the 
tides  and  winds  he  can't  control.  —  You  observe,  I 
am  acting  as  Greek  chorus." 

"  Make  a  sonnet  on  it,"  said  Robert. 


342  MAN  PROPOSES. 

"  No,  I  thank  you.  The  proverb  is  enough,  — 
'MAN  PROPOSES.'  Poetry  whistles  itself.  I 
sha'n't  try  to  whistle  it  any  more." 

After  a  rather  painful  progress,  Roderick  sat 
down  between  his  parents  in  the  privacy  of  the 
smaller  room.  He  looked  rather  flushed  and 
excited.  Claret,  surely,  was  to  blame. 

"  Mother,"  said  the  dutiful  son,  "  it's  best  to 
have  a  fair  deal.  That  affair  has  blown  over. 
I've  seen  how  Robert  is  bound  up  in  her ;  not 
that  he  talks,  but  he  mourns.  I  know  he  is  get- 
ting out  of  the  notion  of  black,  —  a  moulting 
theological  crow  —  but  he's  all  right.  He  saved 
my  life  more  than  once.  I  won't  contend  with 
him,  —  not  for  bravado,  as  I  once  set  out  to  do. 
I  have  a  speck  of  honor.  No :  I'll  either  go  back 
to  my  regiment,  or  Fll  go  over  and  see  my  uncle 
Ralph.  Perhaps  the  girl  he  has  picked  out  for 
me  isn't  as  pretty  as  Phoebe ;  but  we  won't 
enlarge  on  that  point.  Now,  not  a  word !  I  was 
afraid  you  might  do,  or  say,  or  look  something. 
Let  the  play  go  on.  Count  me  out.  Will  you 
help  me  back  into  the  parlor  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Prescott.  "  But,  Roderick, 
you've  had  too  much  claret." 

"Perhaps  I  have,  and  that's  the  reason  I  tell 
the  truth.  In  vino  veritas.  I'm  not  strong  on 
my  pins  yet,  in  any  sense." 

Mrs.  Prescott  had  been  extremely  agitated ;  but 
the  new  turn  of  affairs  brought  some  consolations. 
If  she  had  lost  Phoebe,  she  would  be  yet  repaid 


MAN  PROPOSES.  343 

by  seeing  her  son  a  landed  proprietor  in  England, 
perhaps  a  baronet,  or  even  a  peer,  by  and  by. 
And  she  wondered  if  he  could  wear  his  colonel's 
or  general's  uniform  when  he  came  to  be  knighted. 

Mr.  Prescott  was  astonished  that  Roderick 
should  voluntarily  renounce  such  a  darling-  as 
Phoebe,  countess  or  no  countess ;  but  he  thought 
it  might  be  just  as  well,  for  he  felt  pretty  sure  as 
to  her  preference.  But  the  young  men  were 
heroes  for  the  day,  both  of  them ;  and  he  was  half 
in  a  melting  mood  as  he  walked  about. 

Aunt  Zeruiah,  in  a  whisper  to  her  husband, 
asked,  "  Is  that  gal  Phoebe  a  Papist  ?  And,  even 
ef  she  is  a  countess,  won't  she  have  to  jine  the 
pope's  church  before  she  can  git  her  property 
over  there  ?  Ef  she's  a  darter  of  the  Scarlet 
Woman  of  the  Revelation,  I  don't  want  her  to 
be  a-marryin'  my  son." 

Uncle  Solomon  laughed,  and  told  his  wife  not 
to  talk  in  that  way,  for  fear  her  sister-in-law 
would  think  she  was  denouncing  the  oratory. 
While  Belvedere  and  Robert  were  talking  apart, 
Phoebe  felt  that  two  deep  and  earnest  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  her,  although  she  did  not  at  once  raise 
her  own  to  meet  them.  Soon,  however,  she 
looked  frankly  at  the  honest  face  of  her  lover. 

Did  Signer  Belvedere  find  it  necessary  to  con- 
verse with  Miss  Thorpe  ?  At  all  events,  he  had 
moved  his  position  nearer  to  her,  and  discreetly 
turned  away  from  his  Phaybe :  in  fact,  a  general 
movement  was  in  progress,  and  the  company  were 
forming  new  groups. 


344  MAN  PROPOSES. 

Phoebe  and  Robert  found  themselves  near  the 
conservatory.  The  flowers  were  bright,  but  they 
did  not  see  them.  Scarcely  a  word  was  said.  As 
spirits  have  no  vocal  organs,  their  thoughts  may 
be  exchanged  as  by  the  efflux  and  influx  of  light, 
and  their  feelings  may  be  mere  emanations. 
Robert  swam  in  delight  as  he  saw  in  Phoebe's  face 
the  look  that  answered  his  own.  It  was  an  effort, 
for  his  breath  seemed  to  fail  him ;  but  he  managed 
to  say,  — 

"  Are  you  going  to  Italy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  go  with  me." 


THE   END. 


MISS  AMANDA  M.  DOUGLAS'S  NOVELS. 


BETWEEN    FRIEND    AND     SWEETHEART. 

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FROM    HAND    TO    MOUTH. 

i2iTio.     Cloth.     $i  50 

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NELLY    KINNARD'S    KINGDOM. 

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IN    TRUST; 

OR, 

DR.     BERTRAND'S     HOUSEHOLD. 

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oftenest  found  in  the  hands  of  the  rising  generation.  The  present  story  is  quite 
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CLAUDIA. 

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STEPHEN    DANE. 

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HOME    NOOK; 

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SYDNIE    ADRIANCE; 

OR. 

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OVER   THE    OCEAN; 

OK, 

SIGHTS    AND    SCENES    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS. 

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ABROAD    AGAIN; 

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FRESH    FORAYS    IN    FOREIGN    FIELDS. 

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THE  FALL  OF  DAMASCUS. 

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ROTHMELL. 

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touching  one  in  itself,  is  most  feelingly  told,  and  while  not  in  any  manner  overdrawn, 
it  possesses  all  the  elements  of  the  highest  order  of  romance,  which  is  the  romance  of 
real  life."  —  Bancroft  Messenger,  San  Francisco. 

SEOLA. 

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but  a  story  founded  in  strict  concordance  with  the  sacred  writings  of  the  Hebrews 
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NOBODY'S    HUSBAND. 

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is  full  of  the  author's  peculiar  humor,  and  the  haps  and  mishaps  of  the  party  are 
sketched  with  some  force." —  Toronto  Monthly. 

A  YEAR  WORTH  LIVING. 

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yellow  fever,  is  depicted  in  all  its  horror;  we  know  the  autflor  is  acquainted  with  it. 
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lately."  —  Indianapolis  Tribune. 


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A  WOMAN'S  WORD,  AND  HOW  SHE  KF.PT  IT. 

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and  dramatic  interest  in  the  book  that  never  lags,  and  it  possesses  a  pure  element  tha' 
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HIS  INHERITANCE. 

By  Miss  ADELINE  TRAFTON.     Author  of  "  An  American  Girl  Abroad,"  "  Katherin* 

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In  this,  her  latest  venture,  she  is  charmingly  fascinating,  not  only  in  the  story  itself, 
but  the  manner  of  telling  it.  Pathos,  humor,  character,  stand  out  in  every  thing  col 
nected  with  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  the  tale."  —  Providence  Despatch. 

AGAMENTICUS. 

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getting  short  of  ideas,  we  confidently  commend  it  as  the  book  of  the  season."  —  Chi 
cago  Advance. 

AN  AMERICAN  CONSUL  ABROAD. 

By  SAMUEL  SAMTLETON  (Luici  MONTI). 

"  The  sixpenny  way  in  which  our  consular  service  is  managed  has  made  it  ridiculoiv. 
at  home  and  abroad:  hence  the  troubles  which  beset  poor  Mr.  Sampleton  in  his  attem^l 
to  live  within  his  income,  and  at  the  same  time  maintain  the  dignity  of  the  office,  ar» 
not  overdrawn,  and  the  book  may  do  a  good  work.  It  is  very  readable,  and  interwoven 
with  the  story  is  a  fund  of  information  which  will  interest  any  reader  who  is  not  famU 
iar  with  the  consular  service."  —  Taunton  Gazette. 

MR.  PETER  CREWITT. 

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raciest  of  books  of  its  kind  ever  placed  before  the  public,  and  is  sprightly  and  enter 
taining  from  beginning  to  end."  —  N.  B.  Standard. 


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A  NEW  SERIES  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


HEROES  OF  HISTORY, 

BY  GEORGE  M.  TOWLE. 

The  aim  of  this  series  is  to  relate  the  discoveries,  adventures,  dangers 
and  triumphs  of  the  "  Hero"  who  forms  the  subject  of  the  volume,  and 
to  attract  and  hold  the  attention  of  young  readers  from  beginning  to 
end  ;  giving  the  true  stories  of  those  famous  voyagers  and  discoverers, 
whose  names  are  not  unfamiliar  to  young  people,  but  whose  deeds  and 
adventures  are  not  so  well  known.  Thus,  while  the  young  reader  is 
intensely  absorbed  in  the  romantic  tale,  he  will  be  learning  important 
and  truthful  events  of  history.  Each  volume  complete  in  itself. 

uro.   i- 

YASCO    DA   GAM  A: 

His  VOYAGES  AND  ADVENTURES.     By  GEORGE  M.  TOWLE.    i6mo, 
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brimfull  of  adventure,  and  the  book  will  be  of  great  interest  to  the  young  for  whom  it 
is  especially  prepared,  yet  not  the  less  interesting  to  older  people  who  love  history,  and 
the  deeds  of  brave  men  when  the  e^rth  was  much  younger  than  at  present.  It  is 
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picture  of  the  young  Pizarro's  boy-life;  and  the  author  carries  the  reader  on  step  by 
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pleted." —  New  Havtn  Register. 

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resemble)  laid  down  the  most  fascinating  pen  ever  held  by  an  American  author."  — 
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SHORT  STUDIES  OF  AMERICAN  AUTHORS.    Reprinted 
from  "  The  Literary  World." 

ROOM   FOR   ONE   MORE.     A    STORY   FOR  CHILDREN.     By 
MARY  THACHER  HIGGINSON. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston 


"This  book  supplies  a  place  no  former  treatise  has  filed." 

THE  ART  OF  PROJECTING. 

A  manual  of  Experimentation,  Physics,  Chemistry  and  Natural 
History,  with  the  Porte  Lumiere  and  Magic  Lantern. 

By  Prof.  A.  E.  DOLBEAR. 
I2mo.    CLOTH.    ILLUSTRATED.    Price,  $1.50. 

"  To  those  who  are  engaged  in  teaching  physical  science,  it  would  be  a  task 
of  supererogation  to  descant  upon  the  importance  to  which  the  magic  lantern 
baa  attained  as  an  instrument  of  instruction,  since  the  present  generation  of 
teachers  fully  appreciates  the  fact  that,  through  the  mechanical  ingenuity  of 
such  masters  of  the  art  of  illustration  as  Morton  and  others,  it  has  practically 
revolutionized  the  methods  of  experimental  ion  of  ten  years  ago.  To  many, 
however,  the  extent  to  which  this  now  indispensable  adjunct  to  the  lecture-room 
may  he  made  to  replace  the  well-worn  and  stereotyped  apparatus  of  the  pas-t  in 
a  manner  at  once  novel  and  beautiful,  uill  afford  an  agrei  able  surprise:  and  for 
r-iich,  as  well  as  for  the  large  body  of  teachers  who,  for  want  of  t  xperience  or 
familiarity  with  the  apparatus,  have  hesitated  to  employ  it,  the  book  above- 
named,  written  by  an  author  who  has  already  attained  a  reputation  for  his  skill 
in  improving  upon  old  methods  of  illustration,  and  in  devising  new  ones,  will 
prove  to  be  most  welcome.  We  have  carefully  scanned  its  pages,  and  find  it  to 
be  a  very  complete  guide,  by  the  aid  of  which  an  inexperienced  hand  may  speedily 
acquire  proficiency  in  the  art  of  lantern  demonstration.  The  large  number  of 
illustrations  materially  enhances  the  value  of  th<  tiook  to  Uachirs,  to  \vhom  we 
commend  it."— Polytechnic  Reriew,  Phila.,  Pa  ,  Mch..  1877. 

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we  have  made  frequent  USP  of  the  Oxy-Hydrogen  light  and  Porte  Lumitre  for 
class-room  illustration,  but  we  find  here  many  things  we  had  never  thought  of 
before.  The  book  abounds  in  descriptions  of  prr.ctical  and  easily  tried  experi- 
ments, any  ingenious  teacher  can  easily  try  with  little  expense.  It  is  not  an 
addition  to  the  existing  number  of  scientific  treatises,  but  an  exceedingly  useful 
help  to  all,  alike  valuable  for  the  beginner  and  college  professor." — Jfat.  Teachers' 
Monthly. 

"A  convenient  and  useful  manual.  It  shows  to  teachers  and  amateurs  how 
to  use  the  magic  lantern,  for  pleasure  or  instruction.  Full  directions  are  given 
for  the  performance  of  many  experiments  in  physics,  and  nothing  in  the  way  of 
necessary  information  is  omitted.  Prof.  DOI.BKAH  has  written  a  practical 
treatise,  and  has  covered  the  whole  field.  Cuts  are  inserted  whenever  neces- 
sary."— Independent. 

Soitte  of  the  Advantages  of  thin  Book. 

1.  It  tells  how  to  perform  hundreds  of  experiments  in  Natural  Philosophy 
with  such  apparatus  as  nearly  every  one  can  afford  to  have. 

2.  It  tells  how  to  MAKE  apparatus  with  which  the  most  wonderful  effects 
may  be  produced. 

3.  Every  boy  who  loves  to  make  things  will  be  glad  of  the  book,  as  it  will 
enable  him  to  do  many  things  which  he  now  supposes  only  scientists  cun  do. 

4.  Shows  that  the  Porte  Lumiere  is  only  a  looking-glass  fixed  in  a  board  in 
the  window,  to  reflect  a  beam  of  light  into  the  room. 

5.  Tells  how  to  use  a  beam  of  sunlight  and  a  magnifying-glass  for  a  magic 
lantern.     How  to  make  and  use  a  magic  lantern. 

For  sale  by  booksellers,  and  mailed,  prepaid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by  the 
publishers. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Boston. 

C.  T.  DILLINGHAM,    New  YorK- 


ELECTRICITY,  MAGNETISM  AND  SOUND. 


VERY  TEACHER  WANTS 


THE    TELEPHONE. 

An  account  of  the  Phenomena  of  Electricity,  Magnetism  and 
Round,  as  involved  in  its  action;  with  directions  for  making  a 
Speaking  Telephone.  BY 

Prof.  A.  E.  DOLBEAR,  of  Tufts  College. 
I6mo.    ILLUSTRATED.    75  Cts. 

"  An  interesting  little  book  upon  this  most  fascinating  subject,  which  is  treated 
in  a  very  clear  and  methodical  way.  First,  we  have  a  thorough  review  of  the 
discoveries  in  electr.city,  then  of  magnetism,  then  of  those  in  the  study  of 
sound  —  pitch,  velocity,  timbre,  tone,  resonance,  symp  ithetic  vibrations,  etc. 
±>'rom  these  the  telephone  is  reached  and  by  them  in  a  measure  explained."  — 
Uartford  Courant. 


tion  of  the  telephone.  It  is  a  little  book  that  will  be  desired  by  all  classes  of  the 
community;  neatly  printed  and  tastefully  bound.  Every  young  person  in  the 
land  should  become  familiar  with  the  principles  of  phjvical  science  involved  in 
this  discovery." — N.E.  Journal,  of  Education. 

"To  enable  the  reader  fully  to  understand  the  subject,  Prof.  DOLBEAR  has 
begun  at  the  b<  ginning,  the  history  of  electricity;  all  pht-nomena  and  dir-cov- 
eries  at  all  b"aring  upon  the  subject  are  clearly  stated,  and  when  nee-  ssary,  are 
as  clear  y  illustrated.     Thermo  and  magneto-t  lectricity  are  di.-cussid,  and  the 
various  induction   phenomena  are  noted.     The    relations   between  el<  ctricity, 
light,  motion  and  sound,  so  far  as  those  relations  hnve  been  determined,  are 
successively  presented,  together  with  very  interesting  remarks  concerning  vibra- 
tions and  overtones  and  a  table  t-f  tone  composii ion,  explaining  the  cruxes  of 
Stality  in  torn  s   so  clearly  as  to  be  instantly  understood." — Science  Observer, 
oston,  Mass.,  Dec.,  187?. 

"This  is  »  subject  of  much  interest  at  present,  and  Prof.  DOLBEAR'S  exposi- 
tion of  it  will  be  welcomed.  The  author  elucid  >ict*  the  pb- nomena  of  elec- 
tricity, magnetism  and  bound,  as  involved  in  1he  action  of  the  telephone; 
describes  tbj  workings  of  the  speaking  telephone,  and  givs  directions  for 
making  one.  The  author  is  specially  qualified  to  write  on  the  subject,  as  he 
is  the  inventor  of  the  telephone  which  he  describes.  His  descriptions  are  plain, 
and  are  helped  out  by  a  dozen  or  more  engravings." — Boston  Journal. 

"  The  first  sixty  pages  are  devoted  to  a  description  of  magnetism  and  elec- 
tricity; and  the  author  has  presented  the  subject  so  clearly,  even  in  the  short 
space  assigned  it,  that  one  who  had  no  previous  knowledge  of  these  forces  could 
not  fail  to  understand  them.  The  next  forty  pages  are  devot  d  to  an  expoi-ition 
of  sound,  and  in  them  the  writer  has  fully  illustrated  the  nature  and  peculiarities 
of  sound." — Tuft*  Collegian. 

"  The  title-page  of  this  little  volume  is  exhaustive  of  its  import  and  purpose, 
and  it  is  only  just  to  say  that  the  150  pages  of  the  manual  very  well  vindicate  the 
claim  of  its  title-page.  The  author  has  given  the  most  lucid  account  of  electrical 
and  acoustic  principles,  as  they  relate  to  the  telephone,  with  which  we  have 
anywhere  met.  He  is  himself  the  inventor  of  a  speaking  telephone  but  he  gives 
descriptions  of  the  instruments  of  Reiss,  Grey  and  Bell,  as  well  as  of  his  own 
contrivance." — Chicago  Standard. 

"  Prof.  A.  E.  DOT.BEAR  of  Tufts  College,  is  one  of  the  earliest,  the  greatest, 
and  most  modest  of  the  telephone  inventors.  His  latest  improvement  almost 
roars  in  the  listener's  ear.  The  sound  given  off  in  New  York  at  one  extremity 
of  the  wire  is  as  loud  as  that  given  to  the  telephone  at  the  other  end  in  Boston, 
no  matter  how  loud  it  may  be." — Evolution,  N.  Y. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  and  mailed,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  pric*1. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 
C.  T.  DILLINGHAM,  New  York. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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